Northern Star
by BakaSmurf
Summary: Rewrite of Ranger of the North: Summoned and bound as the Guardian Familiar of a fledgeling young noble Mage, a student of the prestigious Tristain Academy of Magic known to her peers as 'the Zero,' a young man resolves to make the best out of a bad situation and adapt to a new life he never asked for. Surely, his tenure as the Familiar of Zero will be an auspicious one?
1. Begin Again

**Pre-Story Notes** :  
 _Well._

 _Here we go again. Let's hope I don't completely shit the bed this time, yeah?_

 _This is a rewrite of my earlier work, RotN, by the way. Only this time with the cancerous fat cut off and discarded. I've learned a lot of lessons since I started RotN, and hopefully I'll be able to do it justice this time around._

 _A special thanks to luckychaos, Fission Battery, Dr. Doctor, and Alleydodger. You guys are great. Without your help and encouragement, this never would have happened. One couldn't hope for a better group of shitlords to post with._

 _So._

 _Let's get started, shall we?_

* * *

 **Chapter 01 - Begin Again**

* * *

With a furious grumble, he grabbed his spare pillow and threw it towards the bright light suddenly shining on his face, interrupting his sleep as it did so.

He was having a rough time at work lately, so much so that he'd actually fallen asleep fully dressed once he'd got home, complete with his blasted rain cloak still on! He really didn't need some asshole joker waking him by shining a flashlight right in his eyes on top of everything else!

"Fuck the hell off you mother-!" The man snarled furiously for a moment before he blinked at the sight before him.

As he opened his eyes to get a glimpse of the perpetrator, the man was stunned into silence by a glowing green orb of light hovering in the centre of his room.

The man blinked in confusion at the sight, then slowly rose from his bed to his somewhat above-average height, giving the glowing ball a cautious stare as he did so.

There didn't really seem to be much more to it, upon closer inspection.

Though…

He moved for the corner of his room, picking up his favourite sword, a Zombie Tools Hellion, and casually swung it over the top of the curious object. He'd expected it to suddenly fall to the ground as the surely transparent line suspending it was cut.

Nothing happened.

"What the fuck…" The sword-wielding man groused under his breath, still staring at the floating object.

It was then, in his half-asleep state, that he did something he'd surely never have done had he been fully aware right then.

With the tip of the sword, the man reached up from beneath his cloak, and poked it.

Immediately, the blade was stuck and drawn part-way in; and more importantly, his hand was stuck to the grip.

The pulling increased in force, the sword seemingly being consumed by the green orb, with him stuck to it.

He began to panic.

While thrashing around, trying to grab at something to pull himself free, he lashed out and took a hold of something at random, and in that moment he was quite violently torn off his feet and sucked into the light entirely.

Regret was a sensation he really wished he hadn't grown so accustomed to by then.

* * *

It took the man a beat to really process what had just occurred, and it wasn't until he slammed back-first into what felt like grassy earth that his brain started spooling up into overdrive mode.

The air around him was thick with fast dissipating smoke as he forced himself to his feet as quickly as possible; sword still in hand and now brandished before his person defensively.

The sounds of chattering were occurring all around him as he struggled to get his bearings-

...Wait, _chattering?_ His roommate was gone on vacation, and…

Only then did the man notice that he was suddenly outdoors. In a bright, temperate location; despite that fact that it should have been a cold, rainy, Canadian autumn night.

He raised the primitive weapon warily, not sure of what would be revealed by the complete disappearance of the smoke… And a few seconds passed before the fumes were suddenly swept away, as if by a particularly strong gust of wind.

He'd flinched at the hard billowing gust, bracing himself with a hand raised to shield his eyes from the wind, the waterproof fabric of his cloak and his long dark brown hair whipping around him uncontrollably.

As soon as it stopped, he'd noticed that the speaking had also ceased. He immediately dropped his hand to see…

Once again, he owlishly blinked in confusion.

The man was surrounded, by what looked to be a shit-tonne of knock-off Harry Potter cosplayers. All wordlessly staring right at him, mouths agape.

Everyone was dead silent for a time, enough for him to blink a few more times and start glancing around, struggling to process all the new information-

 _[Is that a fucking dragon!?]_ He sharply thought to himself, as he noticed a _massive_ blue scaled quadruped creature staring at him from behind the crowds, head tilted to the side and massive black eyes peering into his own. The huge, folded wings held up against its sides made it easy to identify the creature at a glance.

Movement out of the corner of the man's eye caught his attention-

 _[A fucking beholder!?]_ He internally screamed at the sight of a huge, floating eyeball hovering in place over the heads of the cosplayers-

As he was spinning in place, the man suddenly felt himself being tugged downwards by the front of his shirt, followed immediately by an incredibly soft sensation pressing against his lips, along with his nostrils being assaulted by what smelled like roses.

With yet another blink, he realised that he was staring at a pair of very tightly shut eyes for but a moment before the figure rapidly beat a hasty retreat. As the front of his shirt was released, it became clear that it was a girl- No, a young blonde _woman_ with... _purple_ eyes, who was rapidly turning bright crimson, and giving him a thoroughly conflicted look…

His brain finally processed what had just happened, and it was then that he finally spoke up.

"Did you just fucking kiss me-!?" He began, utterly stupefied.

The man's voice caught in his throat as a sharp, terrible burning sensation emerged on the back of his left hand. Lifting the limb up into view in a panic, he found… Runic symbols, _searing_ themselves into his flesh.

His thoughts quickly turned incoherent as the pain intensified seemingly a thousandfold, and he found himself collapsing on the ground, clinging to his hellishly burning hand. If he was screaming, he wasn't aware of it, as all his brain power was focused entirely on the all-encompassing pain.

The pain which seemed to be lancing up his arm, through his veins, and all throughout his body.

The world became an indistinct blur as his mind was overloaded by the intense sensory input. Moments later, everything faded to darkness…

* * *

With a twitch of a brow, the man found himself fading in from sleep, a rather distinct sensation of a stinging discomfort lacing his body.

With a groan, he began to raise a hand to his face-

A distinctly _unfamiliar_ voice suddenly spoke up from his side. "Ah! Y-you're awake!"

Immediately, his eyes shot open as _everything_ came rushing back to him, and he found himself reflexively rolling off to the side away from the voice, very clumsily catching himself moments before slamming face-first into the cold stone-tiled floor beneath him, and leapt up to his feet in a mad rush.

On the other side of the bed was a tiny girl- no, a short young _woman_. Strawberry blonde hair, vibrant violet irises, sharp, and noble nordic features.

She was standing, half-leaning over the bed, her eyes wide as saucers, filled with concern of all things.

He might have found himself taken by her beauty had he not been in a state of panic right then.

"W-wait! Calm down!" She cried out, holding her arms out in a halting motion. "Please! We just rushed you to the infirmary, you may still be ill!"

Her mouth flaps were _very noticeably not_ matching up with her words, like her speech was being lazily dubbed over in real-time, which did nothing to help his state of blind panic right then.

The man instinctively took a few alarmed steps back, adrenaline coursing through his veins as he whipped his face around the environment, barely taking anything in as he-

With a yelp, he found himself tumbling backwards, his back colliding with a soft surface as he briefly flailed his arms in a blind panic before realising he'd walked backwards into another bed.

"Calm yourself!" The tiny woman cried again in a dignified voice, running around the bed he'd been laid upon and jumping on his right arm in an apparent attempt to pin him down. "You might hurt yourself!" She declared while glaring at the man, her large violet eyes showing a distinct… concern?

At that, he found himself pausing, and a few moments passed as the man blinked, his mind now properly processing what was transpiring, and with each passing second his heart rate dropped, though the wariness hadn't faded at all.

"...Where…" He began haltingly, "...where am I? Who are you? What the hell is going on?" He inquired with no small amount of worry.

He noted just then, that his sword didn't seem to be within arm's reach. Also, that he distinctly remembered seeing a _dragon_ and a _beholder_ before he passed out-

His eyes widened as he immediately lifted his left hand to his face again… And saw what looked like nordic runes seared into his flesh, as if he'd been _branded._

The girl visibly swallowed her anxiety, giving him a very disconcerted look. "...L-listen, we should go see Professor Colbert. He asked me to bring you to him once you were awake, and it may be best if he answers any questions you have himself." She advised nervously.

His heart rate had slowed considerably, and his breathing had returned to normal. The man glanced around the room again, this time with his wits about him.

It looked to be some sort of primitive medical infirmary. Dozens of beds set side-by-side running along both walls of a room, linen stacks resting atop every mattress, handsome wooden cabinets strategically placed around the room, large, old school windows allowing copious amounts of natural light to flood the space, brightly painted walls…

Yeah, definitely an infirmary, if a rather archaic, early modernish one.

He looked back at the tiny girl, making an attempt to pin him down by his bare, hairy arm which wouldn't have worked if he _really_ wanted to stand back up.

She mentioned that this 'Professor Colbert' would answer his questions…

"Okay," The man started with a sigh, "bring me to this 'Colbert' then."

She remained still for a few seconds before slowly backing off of him and removing her miniscule body weight from his arm, and as she did so the man distinctly remembered that she'd just _forced a kiss_ onto him moments before he'd passed out…

He shook his head as his cheeks started to turn red, and once the girl was off of him, he rose to his full height-

 _[Holy shit- fun-sized-!]_ He remarked internally as he just then noticed how _short_ the girl was. She barely came up to his chin! She couldn't have been more than 5'0".

She seemed to notice the difference in their heights as well, if the way her eyes widened once he was flat on his feet and _towering_ over her was any indication.

As he quickly gave her a once-over, he'd noted that she seemed to be dressed similarly to a Catholic School girl; a plain white long-sleeved button-down, dark gray skirt which came down to just above her knees, what seemed to be dark stockings or tights, and simple though finely made leather dress shoes.

Though rather than the expected crucifix, she had a gold- no, _bronze_ talisman adorned with a simple pentagram, held in place at her collar with a red ribbon.

...Oh, and a dark gray woolen wizard's cloak.

Because dragons and beholders.

 _[There happen to be any dungeons around here as well?]_ He internally snarked to his own mild amusement.

The man shook his head.

 _[Right. Some kind of mage-in-training,]_ he supposed with a small internal sigh at even supposing such ridiculous things...

They both stood there, silent for a time. Now looking at her perfect, porcelain features, he couldn't help but feel heat rising to his face at the idea that this beautiful, tiny young woman had just _kissed_ him not that long ago.

She seemed to notice his reaction to her features, if the way she started clearing her throat while obviously looking away from him was any indication.

"So, uh," she began with a stutter, "y-your cloak, coat and belongings are right there," she pointed at a coat rack, which indeed, his trusty black rain cloak and combat jacket were hanging from.

Also resting beside it was his sword and… The bag of aluminum cans he had been counting for recycling before going to work. Meaning the thing he'd grabbed while being pulled into the portal-thing had been...

 _[...Great.]_ He groused internally.

The girl paused for an awkward moment before continuing.

"Um, right, Professor Colbert… please, follow me."

Immediately, she turned on her heel and began marching down the path between the rows of beds, to a large double-doorway with a purpose.

Though he hesitated briefly, he quickly grabbed his cloak, coat, blade and... cans, before noticing a familiar weight in his pocket, his dead Vita, for all the good it'd do him. Falling into step behind her, he tossed the items on, more out of a force of habit than anything, and noted that there wasn't much he could do then and there besides following the gorgeous girl.

And so follow her he did.

* * *

"Ah, you're finally awake," the older blue-robed and bespectacled kindly looking chestnut-haired man started once the two stepped into what he could only describe as an alchemist's chambers.

He couldn't be more than 5'4", barely coming half-way up the taller man's nose.

"That is good. It was rather concerning, the way you collapsed into a hysterical, screaming pile during the summoning, you know," the older man lightly chided in what seemed to be a slightly playful manner, his chestnut eyes twinkling with mild amusement.

The taller man blinked owlishly at that, fighting back a snide remark at the robed fellow's statement, suppressing it into a sigh.

"Could… could we just skip to the part where somebody explains to me what's going on?" He asked wearily, already feeling completely burned out by everything that had happened so fast and without explanation.

The cute blonde had claimed a nice-looking wooden chair in front of the older man's desk, and sighed as well. "Professor, please," She breathed out in a wispy tone.

With a robed arm, the professor made a placating motion with his hands as he replied. "Right right, my apologies miss, I was merely attempting to lighten the mood."

Looking back at the newcomer, the wizard-looking man sighed himself.

"Well, we certainly seem to have gotten ourselves wrapped up in an interesting predicament, haven't we?" He asked, seemingly rhetorically. "Lady le Blanc summoning a foreign nobleman as her familiar, then acting on the pact before anyone had the chance to process what had just happened…"

The older man gave the young woman a sideways look, and she sheepishly looked away at a beaker full of a strange bubbling liquid.

Meanwhile, our intrepid hero was confused by being referred to as a 'nobleman…'

"This event is… rather unprecedented, I must say…" The apparent alchemist shook his head lightly. "Though I am getting ahead of himself, aren't I? Allow me to introduce myself; I am Professor Stephen Tyrone Colbert. Potions and applied Fire Magics teacher here at the Tristain Academy of Magic."

 _[...Wait, Magic- A dragon and beholder. Jesus Christ, was that- Was that green sphere a portal to another dimension of magic or something? And wait a minute, this 'Colbert' looks awfully familiar…]_ The cloaked man thought to himself as he started putting two-and-two together.

Colbert lightly bowed his head as he continued. "And this is…"

He motioned to the blonde, and she promptly stood from her seat with a look of embarrassment on her face.

"L-L-Louise Françoise le Blanc de la Vallière!" She declared with a stutter. "P-pleased to make your acquaintance, good sir…" She curtsied rather cutely at that as she seemed to gather her wits.

The man glanced between the pair, and the pieces of the puzzle fell into place. From what he'd already seen of the locale while walking to the office with Louise… It seemed that he was in some manner of low-tech fantasy world, where cloaks seemed to be a symbol of nobility going off of context, meaning…

That's why he was being treated with such respect. They were under the impression that he was like them, a 'noble' because of his $30 military surplus rain cloak. If that were to change… No, that wouldn't do at all. Perhaps…

He bowed somewhat theatrically, directing his face to the ground to buy himself a few precious moments to think… "I am, Jophiel Pholus van Cazonium… the Second," The man said as he returned to his full height. "At your service."

The Archangel of Wisdom. No ironic hubris there at all, nope, no siree bob.

Both Louise and Colbert seemed pleased with his little show, and she returned to her seat in a rather dignified manner.

"Curious that you should say that, Lord… Pholus?" Colbert inquired, to which Jophiel nodded once. "Right, Lord Pholus. As I stated earlier, Lady le Blanc has summoned you as her guardian familiar, who-"

"I have no intention of forcing Lord Pholus into servitude," Louise suddenly and rather heatedly interjected, to his surprise and Colbert's apparent amusement.

"Well then, young Lady," Colbert began in a somewhat condescending tone. "Perhaps you should have thought twice before rushing forward to seal the pact with him-"

"I. Am. _Not_. Going, to treat him like an _animal_ ," the girl pointedly declared with a little more heat to her tone.

"Um," Jophiel spoke up, raising his hand. " _What?_ "

Colbert sighed. "Traditionally, Lord Pholus, a Mage summons an animal during the beginning of their Second Forms-"

"And Lord Pholus is a _human_ ," Louise interjected again, giving Colbert a rather sharp look.

He merely sighed before continuing unabated. "-Which is bound to them by the Familiar Bond, a magical link which permanently ties a mage and creature together… and never before in all of the history of Halkeginia, has a _human_ been summoned in the Familiar Summoning Ritual."

The older man removed the primitive glasses from his face and set them down on the desk in front of him to pinch the bridge of his nose.

"As you can guess, Lord Pholus, this… _complicates_ matters."

Louise 'humphed' to the side, looked rather annoyed herself. "I disagree. The Founder's Laws make it perfectly clear that one is not to force one's fellow man into unlawful servitude, or treat one's fellow man as property, be they of noble or common breed," she asserted blandly.

Colbert deeply sighed again. "Complicates matters _indeed_."

Louise leaned forward combatively. "It seems rather simple to me-"

"Perhaps if you hadn't completed the ritual and marked Lord Pholus as your familiar, Lady le Blanc," Colbert interjected while gesturing to Jophiel's left hand-

 _[...Ah. So that's what those are…]_ Jophiel noted to himself, sparing the runes on the back of his palm a cursory glance.

"I panicked!" She asserted defensively. "I didn't know-"

"Stop stop stop stop stop!" Jophiel interjected hastily, while making a chopping motion between the two with his hand. "First off," he started, pointing to Colbert, "can I be sent back home?"

Colbert sighed quite warily. "No, young Sir. The Summoning ritual is strictly one-way, and no spell is known to return summoned creatures to their original domain."

Louise growled while Jophiel fought the urge to make a fist and start cursing like a sailor.

"Lord Pholus," Colbert began. "How would you feel about signing a contract, or pact with Lady le Blanc?"

Louise turned to look at Colbert sharply, but didn't otherwise speak up.

"It would satisfy the rules of the Summoning Ritual, being that it would result in you acting in Lady le Blanc's service, but you'd be signing into it willingly, and with whatever benefits you may be able to negotiate into the contract, which would surely satisfy the Lady's sense of honour, no?" He inquired, looking at Louise.

She looked a little skeptical as she replied. "That… might be acceptable," she allowed hesitantly.

Jophiel paused for a long while after that, eventually sighing deeply as he replied. "I…" he glanced at the window behind Colbert, and noted that it was quickly getting dark out. "It's rather late… is there any chance that we might conclude this meeting tomorrow? I… need some time to think about all this."

The two apparent mages gave him a long look, though eventually they both sighed and relented.

"Very well," Louise stated, sounding quite tense.

"I see nothing wrong with that, so long as we _do_ conclude the arrangement tomorrow," Colbert noted simply. "It is important that Lady le Blanc confirm that she has a familiar as soon as possible, or…"

Louise very noticeably grimaced at that, but neither of them seemed to feel the need to fill Jophiel in on why, and he had his own concerns to worry about at that moment.

"Okay…" Jophiel said with a shrug, rather wanting the meeting to end so that he could leave and just… _think_. "So, where will I spend the night?"

Louise jolted up at that, looking like a deer in headlights while Colbert just looked all the more exhausted by the inquiry.

"That… is a very good question," the older fellow started as he leant back in his seat. "The servant's quarters or one of the spare infirmary beds would do, I imagine-"

Louise sounded positively aghast at the suggestions. "W-we cannot have a noble guest sleep with the servants or where the sick are kept! There are dedicated rooms meant specifically for visiting nobles to use!"

Colbert sighed again. "Except that Lord Pholus isn't technically a _guest_ by the laws and customs of the Founder…"

Louise looked about ready to pop a blood vessel right then.

"Fine! Then he shall share _my_ room for the night!" She heatedly declared.

 _[Wait, what.]_ Jophiel thought to himself with some surprise.

Colbert looked a little taken aback by that. "L-lady le Blanc, that would be highly inappropriate-"

"I will not have a noble guest spat upon in such direct defiance of the Founder's will! If the Academy will not treat him with appropriate guest rights, then _I_ will!" She proclaimed as she forcefully stood from her seat and began stomping towards the door. "Lord Pholus, we will return here in the morning! Follow me!" She all but growled out as a command.

Despite the girl's small size, she managed to come across as rather intimidating right then, and not wanting to piss her off, Jophiel immediately followed her out of the office without turning to address Colbert on their way out.

* * *

"…So, this one's my room." Louise stated as the two stood outside a handsome wood paneled door in a luxuriously decorated hall.

It was becoming very clear very quickly that the place was indeed some manner of very high-class establishment… though Jophiel was more focused on thoughts of… _everything_ pertaining to his situation such as it was.

"Do you want to go to bed now, or…" She began quietly. "Well, you were unconscious for a long while, I wouldn't imagine you'd be all _that_ tired all things considered…"

"I…" Jophiel halted. "Would like the opportunity to be alone for a time," the much larger man said warily. "I believe I should be able to find my way back here when I'm ready to turn in… If you're truly okay with letting me-"

"I promised you guest rights!" The tiny girl all but _snarled_. "I do not make promises I've no intention of keeping!"

Jophiel raised his hands in a placating gesture at the furious response. "O-okay, okay! I'll… Uh…"

Louise's nostrils flared for a moment as she seemed to be doing a breathing exercise to calm herself. "…I will arrange the sofa to be more comfortable for a night's rest…" She glanced back at him, giving him a quick once-over and grimacing. "Or as comfortable as it can be for someone whose legs will be hanging over the side…"

Jophiel shrugged. "It's fine… I appreciate the gesture either way. It's more than that Professor was willing to do for me, apparently."

She scoffed at that as she opened her door. "'Not a noble guest…' borderline _blasphemy…!"_

Immediately, Jophiel felt a chill down his spine. Was he in a religious fundamentalist fantasy world? "…What was that about, anyways?"

Louise looked contemplative, then shrugged. "I will inform you tomorrow. It is rather late for me by now, and I have a sleeping schedule I'd rather not break."

Jophiel nodded and stepped back from the door. "Then sleep well Lady le Blanc, I will attempt to avoid waking you when I return from my… walk."

She simply nodded once. "Very well. I will take whatever you don't need for the night now then, unless you intend to carry your sword and that bag around the school grounds?"

Jophiel nervously chuckled at that before handing her the blade and sack of cans. "The sword is expensive, please be careful with it."

"I am no stranger to such weapons, and I know to treat a fellow noble's belongings with respect," she asserted while taking the objects, noticeably looking surprised at how light the bag was. "I will keep the door unlocked. I'll trust you to be quiet when you return for the night. I will talk to you tomorrow, Lord Pholus."

With a parting nod, Louise stepped inside and closed the door behind her, leaving him standing alone in the long, luxurious, and dimly-lit hallway.

Familiars. Robes. Cloaks. Wizarding schools. Nobody's speech matching up with the movement of their mouths, almost as if they were... being dubbed over...

 _[...Translation magic, huh?]_ Jophiel silently noted to himself, which caused the gravity of his situation to hit him all the harder.

After a few moments, he allowed himself to speak freely for the first time since he'd awoken in that place.

"Holy mother of fuck, what fresh hell have I gotten myself into this time…"


	2. Boy Meets Girl

**Pre-Story Notes** :  
 _So on a scale of one-to-Bethesda, how badly am I shitting the bed with this reboot?_

* * *

**Chapter 02 - Boy Meets Girl**

* * *

Shortly after departing to find an exit to the exterior of the… Castle? Mansion? Whatever kind of building it was, Jophiel's stomach began a-rumblin, and only then did he realise he'd not eaten at all the day previous before passing out.

A quick glance out a window confirmed that it was twilight out, with night likely fast approaching…

Having little else to do, he decided that focusing on attempting to find food took priority over going outside.

* * *

A few minutes of exploration led him to… Another fancifully decorated but otherwise nondescript hallway. Grunting in annoyance, Jophiel ran his hand through his long, loose hair; noting that it was gonna suck not having an elastic to tie it back.

After pausing a moment to take a calming breath, he released his hand, allowing it fall back to his side and proceeded down the hall again. With luck-

Just then, he noticed a sweet voice coming from down the finely decorated, high-class old European-style corridor. It seemed to be a woman's voice, humming a song.

Though he was normally not one to ask for directions, instead stubbornly wandering around until happening upon his destination, he was getting rather peckish and opted to seek out the humming person.

Stepping around the corner at the end of the corridor, he noted that the woman was standing just around it; and lo and behold, it seemed to be a maid by the look of her dress and the way she was dusting a painting.

"Excuse me-" Jophiel started, which startled the woman who evidently hadn't seen him, based on the way she 'eep'd,' spun around and jabbed her feather duster in his face.

Reacting too slow, he took the full brunt of the duster and inhaled a nose full of dust, causing a terrible sneezing and coughing fit.

It took him a few moments to regain his composure, and once he was once again in control of his faculties, Jophiel noticed that the girl was bowing and apologizing rather furiously. While he was annoyed, of course, she clearly hadn't meant to do that. So he'd decided to take a hold of her shoulder to stop her bowing and calm her.

"It's- Christ, it's okay, calm yourself!" The much taller man declared while using his free arm to wipe his face of dust.

She couldn't have been more than 5'2". Barely any taller than the already miniscule Louise.

After taking a moment make sure his face was clean, he finally really looked at the girl… And was promptly stunned by her beauty.

Flawless silky smooth bobbed raven locks adorned by a cute, ruffled headdress framed her exotic, pale angelic face free of blemishes. An oriental twist to a nordic visage made her a sight to behold as glistening pupils ringed in hazel of emerald and chestnut gazed back at him in naked concern.

Her ample, heaving bosom was emphasized by her slate grey uniform, trimmed in white lace and a white, ruffled apron which seemed custom designed and fit to cling to her shapely form, the plain fabric distressing in protest as she heavily panted, her panicked attempt at begging forgiveness having left her breathless.

Her thin waist implied an hourglass figure; a curvy, exotic woman whose beauty all but demanded the eyes of any who laid their gaze upon her flawless form.

She was absolutely stunning.

Realizing that he was staring, Jophiel cleared his throat and relented his grip on her slight shoulder. "I-it's fine, really, don't worry about it," His voice _almost_ cracked in embarrassment. _Almost._

She seemed to relax ever-so-slightly, though didn't let her guard down entirely.

"Um…" The exotic beauty started nervously, fidgeting in place ever so slightly as she made a point to cast her eyes downwards; tearing her vision away from his face. "Is… is there anything I can help you with, mi'lord?"

 _[Mi'lord…? Ah, right, cloaked noble… Guess I'd better keep that misinformation spreading, huh?]_ Jophiel thought to himself with an internal shrug as he cleared his throat and straightened his back. "Yes, actually. I'm new to the academy and am searching for the kitchens, as I've yet to eat today." The much taller man declared politely.

Keeping her eyes downcast, she nodded stiffly.

"The kitchens are not far from here, I can escort mi'lord there, if need be," she quietly replied, seeming to make a deliberate attempt to make herself seem even smaller than she already was compared to him.

"That would be very much appreciated." Jophiel kindly said with a small, disarming smile.

Just because he was masquerading as a noble, didn't mean he intended to be a dick about it.

"V-very well, please follow me, if it pleases mi'lord," the gorgeous girl quietly quavered as she motioned down the hallway to her back, before meekly starting down it at a middling, yet still gracefully practiced pace.

As he quietly sidled up beside her, Jophiel noted with some annoyance that he didn't like how on-edge the girl seemed to be. Were the local nobles really that bad, to have her so obviously concerned by encountering one on her lonesome?

Suppressing a grimace, he stomached it. He shouldn't be drawing attention to himself by treating the local commoners as being no different from himself, regardless of how true it was.

Still…

"If I am distracting you from your work and you are chastised for it, inform your lords to seek out Jophiel Pholus van Cazonium," he began, deciding to throw the girl a bone regardless. It wasn't in his nature to be an asshole, even it the situation likely called for it. "I will sort out any issues quickly."

"A-ah..." the pretty maid stumbled, not seeming to know how immediately reply. "Y-you are most gracious, mi'lord, but that shouldn't be necessary. I am simply doing busy work, such as it was."

Jophiel nodded. "Very well, if so say so."

The two proceeded to the kitchens from then on without any further exchange of words. 

* * *

"S-so, um… here we are, mi'lord, though it seems as the staff have left for the night. I apologize, but-" The beautiful girl of mixed ethnicity paused with some surprise to see the big foreign noble start pulling the tops of barrels and opening cupboards with nary a hint of noble pride without missing a beat.

It took her a moment to gather her wits after bearing witness to such a strange sight.

"...Mi'lord…?" She began questioningly, perplexed as she was.

She was half-expecting him to order her to prepare food for him, once it was clear the kitchen staff were gone. Not to… rifle through raw food stores himself like a hungry commoner.

He hummed inquisitively, turning around to face her from a tall cupboard with an oblong white fruit in his hand.

She just stared for a few moments, before he seemed to realise what he was doing with widened eyes and an embarrassed grimace.

"A-ah, I-I am _very_ hungry, and it isn't as though there are any cooks around to call upon at this hour!" he asserted defensively, clutching the fruit in his hand.

"O-of course, mi'lord…" the maid nodded along, fearful that she'd offended him.

Silently, as her gaze lingered on his handsome face, she noted that he actually looked rather cute when he was embarrassed, with the way he recoiled and his eyes widened in such an exaggerated way.

A few moments passed in silence while he examined the common fruit in his hand before he addressed her again.

"What is this thing?" he asked, shaking the fruit for emphasis.

She blinked. How could he not be familiar with… where was this man from?

As she processed the question, she finally actually stopped and looked at him. She'd initially assumed that he was Germanian, there were people there of a darker complexion compared to the rest of Halkeginian peoples, after all.

Though, considering it, she'd actually seen a few of those peoples during her brief time working at her uncle's Inn.

This man shared no features with them. Or any other of the peoples of Halkeginia she knew of.

His beard, long well-kept hair, and eyes were a deep, rich brown. She'd initially waved his hair colour off as being dyed, which the subtle auburn highlights in his beard seemed to support, but now that she'd taken a good look at him… that was clearly his _natural_ hair, and his eyes…

Such deep, dark colours did not occur in human beings. Siesta _knew_ that, she'd learned it early in her life when she realised how much she stood out among her peers with her jet black hair, a shade which was, curiously, unheard of in people outside of her bloodline.

Of course, some nobles would dye their hair dark colours to draw attention to themselves, but black dye was an unparalleled luxury. Nobles that would waste it on their _hair_ were rare indeed.

Yet there he was, a fantastically foreign noble with hair and _eyes_ which rivalled the richest of life-giving soil in its hues. There was no magic which existed to change the colouration of one's eyes.

And his words did not match up with the movements of his mouth, an obvious tell-tale sign that he was speaking with her via the benefits of a translation spell.

Just then, Siesta took a good look at his clothes. They were… Vaguely familiar, yet utterly alien in their design. A curiously drab green jacket which seemed to be made of a sturdy fabric, featuring what seemed to be a strip of inexplicable bronze or brass _teeth_ along with more familiar buttons that _seemed_ to be made of some exotic shaped horn, a similar, if somewhat darker colour to his jacket.

Beneath was a subtly accented button-down shirt she could only describe as masterfully made, of a strange material unlike anything she'd seen before.

His trousers were a deep black, a colour which only the wealthiest of nobles could afford to dye their clothing with, and was similarly sturdy in design.

And his shoes… Where to even begin? Their make was far more complicated and intricately designed than any footwear she'd ever seen before, an exotic composite of what seemed to be cloth, leather, and another strange material she couldn't even begin with identify on the sole, died as rich a black as his leggings.

All encased in a mantled, hooded cloak of the strangest, most alien midnight black fabric she'd ever seen.

His clothing, while understated and obviously designed with function first and foremost in mind, where undeniably of exceedingly high quality. Quality well above and beyond what could be afforded to commoners.

Where in the Founder's name was this man from?

"...Miss…?" The man's deep, gravelly voice broke her from her stupor, and she flushed upon realising he'd been just standing there, waiting for her to respond as she flagrantly gawked at him like a star-struck… Well, commoner.

"M-my apologies, mi'lord!" Siesta cried, praying she'd not earned his ire. "T-that is a crada fruit. Native to Tristain, they are sweet with a crisp texture, and commonly used in baked goods."

He looked at her, then at the snow-white fruit in his hand, then back at her.

"Are they edible raw?" He asked blithely. As if such a question wasn't _preposterous_ for a noble to ask. What man of high station would ever consider eating a baking foodstuff raw?

"I… y-yes, mi'lord," she replied, attempting to hide her perplexion. "B-but…"

Such a curious man. Though he displayed some of the detachment one would expect from a noble… he was clearly unfamiliar with some Halkegenian norms.

Jessica would have jumped on the opportunity to curry favour with a highborn man. She wasn't about to let her cousin reprimand her for not at least _trying_ to get in this noble's good graces. She knew how a commoner could benefit greatly from doing so, in time.

Bowing her head respectfully, she took a breath and decided to at least make an attempt at it. "...It would be utterly remiss of me to stand by and allow my better to eat in such an unrefined manner. Please, allow me to prepare a proper meal for you-"

She raised her eyes again, and they promptly became as wide as a pair of saucers when she noticed the giant noble _grimacing in naked disgust._

Had she not been frozen to the tiled floor in fear, she'd have taken her chances with running on the spot.

But next, to her great surprise, following the man's expression shifting to one of shocked surprise for but a moment, he gave her a gentle, _comforting_ smile.

"T-that would be fantastic, miss Siesta! Your sense of duty to your…" The man paused for a moment, seeming to take a moment to consider his words. "Betters," the word seemed to taste bitter on his tongue, if his expression was anything to go by. "Is commendable."

The common girl didn't know what to think of the past few seconds right then. She was so certain that she'd infuriated him somehow, yet he quickly, almost _apologetically_ , he did a veritable one-hundred-eighty degree turn, and looked unexpectedly _thankful_.

"...Y-you are too gracious, mi'lord, it is my pleasure to serve," she asserted with a respectful bow.

She didn't know what to think of the man, such as it was, beyond that he had… garnered her curiosity.

Idly, as she began gathering the materials for a quick, single serving of a simple meal, she couldn't help but hope that this strange noble would be a common sight around the academy for a while to come. 

* * *

"So," Jophiel began as he stepped out of the kitchen with Siesta still in tow. "I sincerely appreciate the help, miss Siesta, but it's late and you really should be heading to bed. I imagine that you have to work in the morning, after all."

The girl's eyes had a curious glint to them, one which Jophiel could not read as she replied.

"Y-yes, mi'lord. It was a pleasure to serve you." She curtsied with practised grace. "May the Founder bless your dreams, sir."

With that, she departed, leaving Jophiel with a final, gentle, curious smile before she turned the corner down the hall.

He was alone in the lavish hallway again, though this time with his belly full, and a content smile on his face.

"Nothing like a nice, pretty girl to lighten one's heart after a heavy day…" he sighed while placing a hand on the back of his neck warily, recalling the earlier conversation he'd had with Louise and Colbert, about being her 'familiar.'

And Siesta referring to him as her 'better.' He couldn't help but grimace _again_ at the thought of her saying, let alone _believing_ that shit. But… he was in no position to disavow her of such notions, loathe as he was to admit it.

He didn't want to be outed as a commoner himself. Not when doing so could very well result in him being treated with no rights, for all he knew.

Beyond that, he also had to contend with his concerns that he was… Well, in another world. Sure, he'd not _seen_ any magic being performed, but… the dragon and beholder left little room for interpretation. Glancing out a nearby window, he noticed that the sun had completely set, allowing the stars to reveal themselves in their entirety.

"There's one way to be sure, I suppose…" He breathed to himself as he proceeded down the hallway, in search of a door leading out into the courtyard… 

* * *

It would have been easy to explain away the apparent lack of technological development around the academy, such as it was. Groups that shunned technology were far from unheard of in sparsely-populated regions of the United States like Montana.

Even the critters… could be elaborate mock-ups. Animatronics could be pretty damned convincing if one really wanted them to be.

But faking an alien sky, complete with two great spherical moons, a field of stars featuring no recognizable constellations, and what looked to be _the Milky Way, or something like it, plainly visible high in the night sky?_

"Toto, I've a feeling we're not in Kansas anymore." Jophiel quietly muttered to himself as he gazed upwards from the grassy walled courtyard of the academy; feasting his eyes upon the fantastical sky above as he lay upon his cloak like some sort of crinkly blanket.

The two moons glowed upon the earth, the larger in blue, the smaller in red. Almost taunting the Canadian with their haunting, unfamiliar presence. They were nothing like the Earth's stalwart white companion, large and attention-grabbing even in the comparatively busy void of this world's space…

 _[I'm far from home,]_ Jophiel thought to himself, eerily calm despite the weight of his situation bearing down upon him from a eldritch heaven. _[Farther than I'd ever thought I'd be.]_

He remained there, silent, allowing the harsh reality to press upon him with no resistance.

 _[Colbert said that there's no magic for sending summons back home,]_ he exhaled silently into the chilly night air, his eyes not breaking contact with the alien moons. _[No warning, no time to prepare… I didn't even get to say goodbye…]_

He'd always, in some way, wished for a fresh start. A clean break from his life, such as it was. Free of the baggage he'd been saddled with since his childhood, baggage which stuck to him even now in his twenty-first year of life. Free to just… begin again.

But… not like _this._

In his wishes, he was in a familiar land, surrounded by his countrymen. And there was always another presence nearby, a familiar, stalwart figure he'd grown so accustomed to, that he wasn't sure how he'd live without its comforting company.

"Rose…" He whispered with a shuddering, pained breath. "Sorry I didn't get to say goodbye, Love…"

After a few moments, he pushed himself up onto his rear, and quickly wiped at his eyes before taking a deep breath and letting out a long sigh.

"Eyes forward, Joe," he said to himself, his hands balling into tight fists. "The past is in the past, keep walking ever onward, just as you always have. Life never kept you down before… And I'll be damned if I'm gonna let it start now," he declared as he stood up, taking a hold of his cloak as he did so. "If I did…" he breathed, wrapping the outer layer around his person, "Rose _would_ find a way to kick my ass across time and space."

At that, he chuckled to himself before about-facing and heading back for Louise's room. His best friend was many things. A hardass that would never forgive him if he'd let her absence break him being chief among them.

"Alright, life. Time for round five-thousand," he growled in defiance, directing one last, glowering gaze at the fantastical sky above before giving his eyes another quick wipe. "Hit me with your best shot." 


	3. Acceptance

**Pre-Story Notes** :  
 _A feeling of obligation to one's readers is a hell of a stimulant, as it turns out._

* * *

 **Chapter 03 - Acceptance**

* * *

With a sigh, Jophiel stepped out of the tiny blonde's room to preserve her modesty.

Louise's couch was indeed on the smaller side, and it was softer than was good for sleeping on, but it got the job done; and was less 'humiliating' for a 'noble' than sleeping on the floor.

The fact that sleeping on the floor probably wouldn't have resulted in as sore of a back was kind of beside the point.

Leaning back on the wall next to her door, the canuck was left to wait for her to get dressed and prepared for her school day. They had to figure out what the deal was before she headed off for classes, after all.

Scarcely a few moments passed before the room opposite the blonde's gracefully swung open, and out stepped what Jophiel could only describe as a gorgeous Arabic beauty.

She was tall, nearly the same height as him; likely about 5'9". Flawless dusky skin, enticing chestnut eyes, and long, _parrot red_ hair styled to cover her right eye, like a classic seductress. He'd have said it was likely dyed, but her eyebrows had the same bright red colouration to them.

Such an exotic colour on a human… Just another clear sign that he wasn't on Earth anymore.

She was dressed similarly to Louise, though she wore her top in a much more revealing manner and seemed to hug her form more closely than the blonde's. The top buttons undone to show a generous amount of her ample cleavage, her chest framed by her cloak's clasp on top of that. Not to mention her thigh-high leather boots which called attention to her skirt which was… A good deal shorter than Louise's.

Simply put, she was quite a looker, and wanted everyone to know it.

The woman stopped in her tracks once she noticed Jophiel standing opposite of her in the hallway, blinking in surprise for a moment before her eyes lit up with inexplicable recognition.

"Ah," she started, a mischievous smile forming on her delicately painted lips. "You… are the man Louise summoned yesterday, aren't you?"

For his part, Jophiel had to take a moment to allow his brain to catch up, taken off-guard by the apparently Middle Eastern beauty as he was.

"I- yes, I am," he affirmed as he stepped away from the wall, standing tall and with his chest held forward pridefully. He wanted to project an image of _noble_ confidence, after all. "Jophiel Pholus van Cazonium, a pleasure to make your acquaintance, milady," he finished with a polite head bow as he suppressed the urge to _cringe_ at unironically referring to a woman as 'milady.'

Different world, different cultural norms. He was just being polite here, he desperately asserted to himself.

The woman regarded him for a few moments, humming appraisingly to herself as she did so.

"I didn't get the chance to get a good look at you yesterday, what with you needing to be rushed off to the infirmary so soon after popping out of the summoning portal… I'm glad to see that the Zero at least managed to bring in a _handsome_ foreigner," she purred while playing with her silken locks.

Jophiel, once again, had to stop to process that. It always caught him off guard being referred to as 'handsome,' especially when it was a pretty woman doing it.

"I…" he hesitated, then stopped once he noted how she'd referred to Louise. "What did you just refer to Miss Vallière as?" He asked, immediately wondering if he was about to start disliking the woman right out of the gate.

"Oh? You haven't heard?" She asked mock-innocently as she looked aside with a sigh, as if the topic bored her. "Louise the Zero. Zero magical successes, zero spells, zero talent. She's _notorious_ in the academy for being an utter failure of a mage, incapable of casting even a single spell."

Jophiel felt his jaw automatically clench once it was clear that was a derisive nickname, one which Louise _definitely_ wasn't fond of. Meaning this woman was probably not a friend to the girl.

"...Though, considering you're standing here now," the redhead continued, "that nickname is hardly deserved at this point, I think."

Jophiel, once again, blinked as his jaw went slack again.

"I'm sure that there are plenty of other students that'll cling to the childish insult despite clear evidence that she has a familiar, if a rather unorthodox one. Buuuuuut…" she drawled, a satisfied smile appearing on her face. "I promised that I'd stop calling her it once she successfully cast a spell. And while I am many things, a _liar_ is not one of them. I'll not bring shame to the Augusta name in such a manner."

She preened in a rather self-congratulatory manner.

 _[...Well, she could be worse, I guess,]_ Jophiel dryly thought to himself.

Also, "Augusta?" He inquired.

The redhead gave him a confused glance, then tisked, to herself, by the look of it.

"How boorish of me. Kirche Frederica Augusta von Anhalt-Zerbst," she began with a well-practiced bow, which… only called further attention to her ample bosom. Which she was certainly aware of. "At your…" she peered up at him from her lowered position with a lecherous grin on her face, _"Service._ "

 _[...Well, at least she doesn't beat around the bush,]_ Jophiel internally sighed.

"I'm looking forward to seeing you around the school, _Jophiel_ ," she purred his name. "Do be sure that your cute little Master keeps up her attendance! My expectations for her just leapt a couple dozen stories, and we wouldn't want her to fall behind in her studies now!" She asserted as she started sashaying off down the hall, only to pause a few steps away from her door. "Flame! Come now my little darling! Momma has classes to attend!"

A few quiet moments passed, and through her still open bedroom door, from which wafted rich, inviting aromatic scents, a padded and clawed scurrying could be heard approaching.

Jophiel's jaw dropped. He'd been expecting a dog or cat to come sauntering out of the room…

 _Not a fucking Charmander!_

Of course, it was a good deal more _real_ than a 'Mon from the games. Scales and a more animalistic appearance compared to the more kid-friendly design made it honestly look more badass than cute, like a miniature dinosaur rather than a wide-eyed smooth-skinned walking plush toy, but the distinctive "Char!" it produced as it walked by on two legs was unmistakable.

Not even pausing to acknowledge Jophiel, flaming tail excitedly waving behind it, the fucking _Pokémon_ quickly padded up to Kirche, who squatted down and gave the critter an affectionate rub on the head.

"See you later, Jophiel," she said again as she stood and started walking away again, drawing what looked to be a wand from her cloak, waving it over her shoulder at her still open door…

Which promptly, and rather smoothly shut itself, as if pulled inward by a practiced attendant.

It took Jophiel another few moments to realise that he'd just witnessed _legitimate fucking telekinesis,_ on _top_ of seeing a real-life _Charmander_ casually stroll on by.

The past few minutes were, understandably, _a bit much_ for him to process, and he had to lean back against the wall to let his mind catch up to what was going on around him.

Something told him that stopping to process things was going to be a regular occurance in his life from there on out, such as it was.

* * *

A few minutes after Kirche departed, Louise finally emerged from her room. 'Like a grumpy cave troll,' Jophiel would have thought if he were meaner. Mornings were _clearly_ not the tiny blonde's forté.

Her clothes and hair were all in order, but she was grumbling up a storm as she rubbed her eyes in great annoyance.

"...Morn'..." She eventually managed before cutting herself off with a yawn.

"Good morning," Jophiel repeated to her, despite them having already exchanged greetings before he left her room ten or so minutes prior. "...So, I just met your classmate, a Miss Kirche Fred-"

 _"What!?"_ Louise immediately snarled. Clearly, that woke her up right quick. "What did that shameless pervert say- _do_ to you!?"

 _[...Right. Definitely not friends,]_ Jophiel noted to himself. He opened his mouth to respond, but was cut off by the girl immediately pressing on in a heated tone.

"Augusta does _not_ represent the general student body _at all!_ You hear me!?" The miniature woman declared, no small amount of annoyance in her voice. "You stay away from that harlot, Jophiel! She only wants one thing from men, and it's _disgusting!"_

He blinked.

 _[Did she just-]_ he shook his head, _[no, no, coincidence, obviously.]_

That aside…

"Whoa, whoa! Calm down, Miss Vallière! It's too early in the morning to be getting so worked up over anything!" He asserted, raising his hands in a placating gesture.

She was a-huffin and a-puffin, learning forward and staring up at Jophiel dead in the eyes with her delicate brow furrowed in clear frustration, before she huffed one final time and returned to her full, utterly unimpressive height.

"You're right, Augusta isn't worth getting worked up over at this hour," she grumbled, her high-pitched voice full of combative fire.

 _[...Not quite what I said, but whatever,]_ the significantly taller man shrugged.

"Okay, Augusta aside… What's the plan, ma'am?" He asked, casually placing his hands in his pants pockets.

Before responding, she glanced down at his midsection, frowned, and looked back up at him. "I wouldn't recommend doing that often," she stated.

That apparent non-sequitur caught him a little off guard.

"...Doing what?" he asked, unsure of what social faux paux he was seemingly committing at the moment.

"Hiding your hands," she replied. "It'll make people wonder _why_ you're keeping them tucked away like that."

A few moments passed as Jophiel processed this new information.

 _[FFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFUUUCCCCCKKK!]_ He internally screamed. Of course, that made sense for what was obviously a pre-modern society based off of what he had seen of it. Not leaving one's hands in plain view tended to give people the impression that one was trying to hide something. Like a weapon. But…

He _liked_ tucking his hands into his pockets! It was a habit he'd had since he was just a kid, and to try breaking it now…

He was _not_ looking forward to having to _fight_ with his instincts to jam his hands in his pants at every opportunity from then on.

"...Understood, ma'am," the canuck replied, withdrawing his hands from his pockets and letting them hang uselessly for a few moments, before immediately crossing them over his chest instead. It just felt _wrong_ letting them just hang like slabs of dead meat!

Though she quirked an eyebrow at the display, Louise seemed satisfied with his cooperation regardless.

"That aside… if… if you've had enough time to think, it would be wise to return to Professor Colbert," she quietly answered, shifting her gaze to the lavishly decorated wall opposite them.

Jophiel couldn't help but notice how nervous she sounded when she said that, for obvious reasons, of course.

"…I… actually have a few questions about that," he asked, now a little nervous himself. "About what… well, _all of this_ is."

Louise glanced back up, seeming to consider his words for a few moments before sighing.

"Let's discuss this somewhere more open, and where we'll be less likely to be interrupted by waking students," she stated as she turned and proceeded down the hall in the direction Kirche had departed not a few minutes earlier.

Seeing little reason to protest, Jophiel proceeded after her, hoping that nobody would get close enough to him to notice that he didn't have spare clothes to change into that morning.

* * *

"There are remarkably few people around," Jophiel said after he claimed a seat which was only _slightly_ undersized for him across from Louise at a nicely decorated patio table and chair set in the academy courtyard among many other identical sets.

Indeed, there were very few non-servants going about from the looks of things.

"The day after the Springtime Familiar Summoning Ritual, second-form students are given the day off to bond with their new familiars," the blonde explained while adjusting her position in her seat. "Most, unsurprisingly, take their time getting out of bed on such occasions."

"Ah… Yeah, that'll explain it," the comparatively massive Canadian nodded, glancing around the wide-open, grassy green courtyard, as well-kept as the finest upscale lawns in well-to-do parts of modern Earth towns and peppered with the occasional small building, likely groundskeeper's shacks.

The academy, it seemed, was something of a converted fortress, with a towering central building surrounded on all sides by great, _polished_ marble walls. At a glance, Jophiel estimated them to be about three, maybe four stories tall. Periodically, there were steps leading up to the battlements which were actually patrolled by what seemed to be _armoured_ soldiers.

Armoured, as in metal armour. _Bronze_ armour, at that. None of them were close enough to notice any specifics of the appearance of their kit beyond that they had similarly bronze halberds.

As interested as he was in the appearance of men armed with fucking _bronze_ weapons, Jophiel shook his head and redirected his attention back to the uncertain blonde sitting across from him.

"...So," he began, which seemed to cause the girl to tense up a fair amount. "We should probably get started then, huh?"

* * *

By the time they'd finished their discussion, the courtyard had filled out a _good deal_ more. Not only with people, but with all sorts of fantastical creatures. Things that wouldn't have been out of place an RPGs and JRPGs both. Jophiel wasn't sure where to begin with them, and so had chosen to focus entirely on his discussion with Louise.

What he'd learned was… Interesting.

Louise, as Kirche had _oh so gracefully_ stated earlier, had something of a reputation. Before summoning him, she'd never once successfully cast a magic spell in her life. Which was… well, about to get her expelled from the academy.

The summoning ritual was her last chance. If she'd failed, she'd be sent back home a failure, an idea which _very clearly_ weighed on the poor girl quite heavily.

If nothing else, it certainly explained both her desperation to complete the ritual using _him_ , and that professor, Colbert's insistence that Jophiel was indeed officially her familiar. It also explained why the professor was so quick to appease the two of them with more of a formalized contract once it was clear Louise was having none of it after she had a moment to reconsider her actions.

Colbert was actually Louise's favorite teacher, and was uniquely supportive of her throughout her years of schooling at the academy. He didn't want her to be expelled for not recognizing Jophiel as her familiar.

And, _of course_ , there was a religious significance behind the ritual, and attempting another summoning was out of the question as a matter of course.

Beyond that, Jophiel had asked about the land they were in. Louise informed him that they were in the Monarchy of Tristain, on the continent of Halkeginia, and the name of the world itself was Alfheim.

Curious, that the world shared a name with the world of elves, as according to historical Norse mythology.

As if he needed further confirmation that he wasn't on Earth anymore.

"...So…" Louise started, quietly, with a clear resigned tone to her voice. "I… wouldn't ask for such a… _commitment,_ of you, especially when I effectively stole you away from your homeland, without your consent."

It had also become very clear that she didn't expect him to agree to being her familiar, despite the _numerous_ benefits she'd promised him, among which was being recognized as being under the protection of the le Blanc family, having all his needs and wants tended to, and, of course, her eternal gratitude.

All because she was certain he'd want to go back home rather than swearing himself to a foreign noble girl he'd never met before.

...She wasn't wrong about that, of course, but…

He glanced back up at the now blue spring sky, wispy white clouds flowing across it ever-so-gently. Picturesque, indistinguishable from the sky he'd been born under twenty-one years previously.

Masking an entirely alien universe.

He wasn't going home.

"...I agree to your terms, Miss Vallière," he replied tonelessly.

"I understand," she replied with a shaky, dejected voice. "I'll speak to the Headmaster about finding you a way back to your homeland-" she very visibly stopped, as if struck, when she realised what he'd said, and slowly turned her gaze from the table up to the larger man sitting across from her. "W-wait, what!?" She cried out, disbelieving.

An understandable reaction, to say the least.

"I accept the terms of your contract. I'll be your familiar," he idly repeated.

Over the course of his… _difficult_ life, Jophiel had learned one thing above all else; when life has kicked you in the balls and mugged you, leaving you with no bus fare in an unfamiliar place with no friends or family to rely upon… you'd god damn well better learn to roll with the punches, and _firmly_ take hold of any and every advantage you could get.

In this world, what better advantage could he ask for than being tied to a prestigious noble family?

She openly gaped at him like a fish out of water, clearly struggling to process his words.

"...B-but…" She began, shaking her head, disbelief thick in her voice. _"...Why?"_

He couldn't just go and tell her that he was from another world. That'd be absurd, she'd think he was insane. It would be better to just… deflect.

"My people have a saying, Miss Vallière. 'Don't look a gift horse in the mouth.' I've agreed to your contract, that's all that matters right now," he declared with little emotion.

For a few moments she continued to look dubious of his words, then, gradually, her expression shifted into one of confusion. Which Jophiel would quickly return in kind.

"...What's a 'horse?'" The tiny blonde eventually asked.

* * *

"...And with that," the bespectacled professor said, setting down the quill after signing the legal document he'd taken the time to write up over the night, and amended within the hour once Louise made the extent of the contract's terms clear to him. "The contract is done. Almost, I mean. The Headmaster still has to approve of it, and he's rather busy as of late, though I can assure you, this is as good as sealed."

Colbert had been very visibly relieved when Jophiel and Louise had approached him with the good news, and was quick to get everything started as quickly as possible.

Once the professor was finished, Louise gently took a hold of the vellum sheet featuring her, Jophiel, and Colbert's signatures, lifting it to her face and closely examining it again.

Looking down at the sheet himself, Jophiel couldn't help but note, again, how much his English script stuck out compared to the very Nordic-looking runes the other two had been writing with.

A few moments of silence passed as Louise seemed to be absorbed in reading the document.

"...Of course," Colbert started again. "I shall make the importance of this contract known to Osmand, so rest assured he'll get to it as quickly as he can-"

He was cut off by a loud screech, which, notably, _didn't_ come from the real, living Bald Eagle resting on a perch atop his desk, not that real Bald Eagles _did_ screech to begin with, but rather, it came from Louise.

She leapt at Jophiel, wrapping her arms around his shoulders, squealing in apparently uncontrolled joy.

 _"Thankyouthankyouthankyouthankyouthankyouthankyouthankyou!"_ She cried out, hanging from his neck as he reflexively wrapped his arms around her mid-section to keep her from falling. _"Thank you!"_ she cried out one final time, followed by her joyful cries turning into what Jophiel figured were tears and hiccups of joy.

He should probably have been more annoyed than anything at her just jumping on him like that, but… this was _extremely_ important to her. He likely just completely altered the course of her life, and from her perspective, at his own expense, just… because he could? He hadn't really given her a reason, had he?

 _"I swear, I swear on the Founder, on my family's honour, on the Old Gods and all that is good in the world, you will live all the rest of your days wanting for nothing!"_ She tearfully asserted into his shoulder, still being held up by him, as taken aback by her over-the-top reaction as he was.

"H-hey now, okay, calm down Louise, you're getting a bit melodramatic here…!" The brunette asserted with a nervous chuckle. He was just glad she was happy-crying. He did _not_ handle sad crying girls well at all.

Jophiel couldn't help but notice the contented smile Colbert had on his face at the sight of the two from across his desk.

"I-I-I-" Louise began, sniffling, and eventually loosening her grip on the significantly larger man's shoulders, to which he responded by gently setting her down.

It was the first time he'd seen the girl smile since he'd arrived, he idly realised.

"I apologize," she eventually managed after setting the document back down and taking a moment to wipe her eyes with her sleeves. "I just… you don't understand what this means to me…"

 _[Evidently not!]_ Jophiel thought to himself, finding her reaction to be _a bit much._

"R-right…" he started, rubbing the back of his neck with some trepidation, glancing up at the ceiling to break the tension he was feeling a tad. "So, with that out of the way, this means I'm getting a room of my own, right?"

Louise nodded with a firm look of conviction, casting a sideways stare Colbert's way. "That _was_ part of the terms, yes," she asserted.

Colbert sighed somewhat in response. "Yes, yes, I will make arrangements for you to be assigned a room in the guest's quarters for now. It will certainly be less scandalous than you sleeping in the girl's dorm, if nothing else."

Jophiel blinked, then looked back down at Colbert, then Louise.

 _[...Well, figures the student's dorms wouldn't be unisex,]_ which also made the blonde's decision to let him board with her for the night that much more significant.

"With all that aside," Colbert began, "I believe that our business here is concluded for now. Miss Vallière, you shall be allowed to return to classes tomorrow, and Mister Pholus… I suppose you two can discuss what you'll do between yourselves."

Louise nodded, shifting her gaze back to Jophiel. "Right. Jophiel…" She began, presenting her tiny hand to him. "I'm looking forward to working with you!"

Taking a moment to sigh in relief, Jophiel took a hold of her hand and gave it a firm shake. "Same, Miss Vallière."

"Louise," she corrected him.

 _[Ah, so forward!]_ he snarked internally.

"Louise," he cheerfully amended his statement.


	4. Blindsided

**Pre-Story Notes** :  
 _Can't stop me mother fuckers!_

* * *

 **Chapter 04 - Blindsided**

* * *

Jophiel had slept well. The bed was comfortable, the room nice and well-ventilated, not to mention lavishly decorated, and he'd gotten the recommended number of hours without interruptions…

So he didn't understand why he felt so _pissy_ that morning.

He still felt kind of bad about snapping at that servant the way he had. The poor guy didn't do anything to deserve being growled at by a guy nearly a head taller than him first thing in the morning for doing his job and asking if Jophiel needed anything taken care of, especially after bringing him a clean change of clothes…

Shaking his head, and adjusting the modified Academy uniform he'd been provided, a simple white button-down and grey trousers, Jophiel continued to make his way for the woman's dorms regardless.

Not much had occurred the day previous, just Louise showing him around the academy so he could familiarize himself with the layout, following by him exploring on his own once she decided that she'd need to retreat to her room to study for the next day's classes.

She'd been absolutely giddy the entire time, and while she hadn't had the time to intimate him with _everything_ in the fortress walls, he probably wouldn't get lost now, if nothing else.

As he was walking, the canuck couldn't help but notice that, much like the previous day, he was… attracting a lot of stares, from both the servants and students, and even most of the adults around the campus.

He'd also noticed that, Siesta aside, he seemed to be the _only one_ in the entire school that had dark hair or eyes.

He'd seen a few young people with _white_ hair, some of which almost looked like they had the vaguest hint of blue if he squinted his eyes just right, and varying shades of ginger ranging up to Kirche's eye-catching parrot red.

There were plenty of brunettes, but not a single lock of _dark_ hair that hadn't come off of his own or Siesta's head.

He'd also not really had a chance to parse it previously, but… there were a fair amount of people with violet, and _red_ eyes.

He shrugged it off in Louise's case because purple was extremely rare, but not unheard of for human eye colours. It seemed to be merely on the uncommon side in Tristain, though.

The red, on the other hand, was rather throwing him for a loop. He had a friend with ocular albinism back home, but in her case, her eyes had a distinctive… _look_ to them when she wasn't wearing corrective contact lenses. The people he was seeing around here simply had varying shades of red eyes with properly developed irises and such.

But again, not a single hint of another set of dark eyes that weren't in his own sockets.

Not to mention that the people all had a distinctively Nordic look to them, with Kirche and Siesta being the only apparent exceptions.

Just more checks to add to the 'not on Earth' list, at this point.

"Ah, Jophiel," came a recognizable high-pitched voice from the hall, pulling the comparatively large man out of his own little world.

Louise had left her room early, by the looks of it. She also seemed… rather relieved to see him.

Jophiel himself was a little surprised at how he himself almost felt a weight lifted from his shoulders at the sight of her.

"Good morning, Louise. Did you sleep well?" he asked as she stepped past him, and he sidled up beside her.

She grimaced lightly. "I… have had better nights. Yourself?"

"Same," he shrugged.

"Was the bedding not to your liking?" She pressed, concern visibly knitting her brows.

"What? No, no… well, I mean the mattress wasn't _quite_ as nice as my own back home, but it was hardly bad," indeed, while it _looked_ fancy as all get-out, the mattress he'd slept on just wasn't as comfortable as his own Earth-made bed.

 _[Funny what one takes for granted in the modern world…]_ he idly thought to himself.

"I just kind of… felt bad, until just now, as a matter of fact," he asserted as he realised that he actually _was_ feeling better already, for whatever reason.

"Ah, you too?" Louise cheerfully chirped. "Well, whatever the reason, that's good. We'd hardly want to look downcast for most of the day."

"Agreed," Jophiel said as the two continued to make small talk while she led him to the dining hall.

* * *

Referring to the dining hall as 'magnificent' would be doing it a grave injustice, Jophiel noted as he glanced up at the luxuriously decorated walls, hell, the floors- fuck, _everything._

Jophiel had previously only seen such luxury and opulence in movies and video games set in the Early Modern era, where nobility was still a thing… Honestly, he'd been half expecting it to look like the Great Hall from Hogwarts, not a majestic court fit for the likes of Napoléon Bonaparte!

Shifting his gaze back to eye level, Jophiel instead found his eyes taken in by the beautiful, yet sturdily made great tables and chairs everyone was seated at.

Which he couldn't help but notice were slightly shorter than what he'd come to expect from his home. Much like… well, everything. The people included.

Louise, fun-sized beauty as she was, was turning out to only be a little below average in height compared to her peers. And the men weren't much bigger, maybe 5'4"?

Tristainians were smol, with Kirche being something of an amazonian outlier, by the looks of things.

That aside…

"Are you enjoying your meal, Jophiel?" Louise asked from the seat next to Jophiel.

"Ah, yes, it is fantastic, the stew is to die for," he replied, making a concerted effort to not acknowledge the looks he was getting from the blonde's classmates. He never liked being the centre of attention… Not that it would be wise to let that show. Nobles were the type to _preen_ , after all.

"Fantastic," Louise began. "I was concerned that it may not suit your foreign palette-"

"What is the meaning of this, Guiche!?" Only to be cut off by a _very_ angry sounding girl from somewhere behind them.

Turning in his seat to see what the commotion was, Jophiel noticed a young fop with golden blonde hair being accosted by a pair of girls, one with platinum blonde hair drills, and another with a simple chestnut brown ponytail. Both blondes were wearing grey cloak like Louise's, while the brunette was garbed in brown.

"You lecherous, treacherous, unfaithful-!" The blonde drillgirl heatedly began, which was followed by Jophiel promptly losing interest in the event and turning back to focus on his stew.

"Looks like Guiche finally got caught…" Louise began, still looking back behind her. She flinched when the distinctive sound of a pair of slaps resounded from the background, followed by the cries of one girl and the indignant shouts of another, and a man desperately attempting to salvage a bad situation. "He's lucky to get off with just being slapped, shameless git that he is."

The Canadian just shrugged, not caring much. _[Not any of my business.]_

After that, nothing of real note occurred during breakfast, and the day was a relatively uneventful one. Something that Jophiel sincerely hoped would be a regular occurance.

* * *

The next few days were calm. Louise continued to attend her classes, and Jophiel was left mostly to wander the academy grounds as he saw fit for the majority of the day.

The two would spend time together whenever she had time off, which she seemed to enjoy in particular. Jophiel quickly came to determine that Louise, depressingly, didn't actually have any friends to speak of at the academy. Seemed that her inability to cast magic made her something of a social pariah, her _rather high_ status as the daughter of a Duke and a Duchess be damned.

Curiously, as Jophiel would come to find out, nobility wasn't tied exclusively to one's birth station, but rather, more importantly, their ability to use magic.

It seemed that on Alfheim, magic was genetic. You were either born able to use magic, or not. There was no inbetween, and commoners couldn't learn how to spellcast unless they just so happened to have noble blood.

That, unsurprisingly, _greatly concerned_ Jophiel for obvious reasons. Though… it simply didn't come up. Nobody ever asked him to demonstrate that he was capable of magic, they seemed to just _assume_ that he could, for some reason.

Not being one to look a gift horse in the mouth, he saw little reason to press the issue himself.

That aside, he had noticed Siesta a few times, and even made small talk with her on occasion. She seemed to be rather smart for a peasant girl, and was good at providing information on the simpler side of human life in Tristan.

Nobles, more often than not, actually took their duties rather seriously. Those duties being protecting the peasantry from the likes of monsters like orcs, treants and… whatever 'banderscatches' were. He swore that he almost recognized the name, but Jophiel shrugged it off when he couldn't place his finger on it.

Nobles were also typically not unkind towards peasants, apparently. Just… overbearing, but fair.

Siesta continued to be… unpleasantly aware of her station, so to speak, but was for the most part nice to talk to.

That aside, Jophiel and Louise both had, rather unfortunately and inexplicably, found that they'd both wake up feeling constantly miserable until convening for breakfast.

Something they'd decided to bring up to Colbert and the Headmaster on Jophiel's fifth day in the academy.

* * *

Jophiel stood in awkward silence for longer than he'd have liked as the Dumbledore knock-off of a Headmaster held his hand and stared at the runes on the back of his palm, as if doing so would cause them to reveal their secrets to the nobles gathered in the highest room at the academy, at the peak of the central tower.

"...Yeah, I've got nothing," the wizened old man dubbed Osmand eventually said has he released the bigger guy's hand from across his desk, upon which was a small black mouse resting on a tiny, specially-made mouse bed with a small water and food pail, and slouched back in his seat.

Louise quietly growled in frustration at that.

As it turned out, there were multiple different kinds of 'familiar runes' which appeared on the creature being bonded to a mage, and all known runes were pretty well documented by then.

It only figured that Jophiel's runes were completely unaccounted for, and on top of that, had the unique effect of being _blindingly painful_ when they appeared. _That_ was something that had never happened to a familiar before either.

 _[A mystery wrapped in an enigma enshrouded by secrets…]_ Jophiel internally grumbled at the situation, such as it was.

"Is there really _no_ evidence of this rune's prior existence, sirs?" Louise asked from her seat next to the canuck, who had quietly sat back down once he no longer needed to be leaning across the headmaster's desk.

"I assure you, Miss Vallière, I pored over _every_ known record we have, which is _all of them_ , considering the Academy's station, and Lord Pholus' runes are one-hundred percent unique and indecipherable," Colbert asserted tiredly. "Whatever kind of familiar he is… it seems that his abilities will only reveal themselves to us in time," he declared, glancing at Jophiel's hand from the Headmaster's side.

Louise, again, huffed in annoyance.

"Now now Miss Vallière, you have your entire lives ahead of you to determine what the young sir's abilities are, both of you are in no rush to figure things out, I assure you," the elderly mage asserted.

His words didn't seem to comfort Louise all that much.

"Well, that aside, tell me, how have you both been faring since the summoning ritual? Notice anything out of the ordinary?" He continued regardless.

Jophiel shared a look with Louise before responding. "We've both been feeling absolutely miserable in the mornings since the day after I arrived, I guess."

Louise nodded in affirmation.

"The day after, you say?" Osmand reached up and began stroking his beard contemplatively. "Did anything change compared to your first night spent here?"

Colbert interjected, "Miss Vallière boarded Lord Pholus in her room with her on the first night, and afterwards he was moved to the guest quarters."

The beard stroking intensified as the old man contemplatively hummed to himself, and a few moments passed in silence.

"Well, the answer to what ails you seems clear to me," Osmand asserted.

"I'm all ears," Jophiel said while Louise leaned in, eager to be rid of unpleasant mornings.

"In order to feel good in the mornings, you two must sleep together!" The old man declared.

 _[Wait, what.]_

"W-w-w-what!?" Louise cried out in outrage as she all but leapt from her seat. "Y-y-y-you- how d-d-dare- I am en-engaged-!"

Jophiel blinked. That was news to him. Though also unsurprising considering her noble standing...

"What the Headmaster means, Miss Vallière," Colbert interjected before the girl got more heated. "Is that the Familiar Bond seems to affect you both in spite of Lord Pholus being human, and that sleeping so far apart is likely what's causing such foul moods in the mornings. It is a well-documented fact that Masters and Familiars do not take well to being separated at night so soon after being bonded."

"Spoilsport," the elderly man pouted from his seat.

Louise, after a few moments, turned as red as a beet and dropped herself back into her chair, clearly quite embarrassed.

"Oh," she quietly intoned.

"So… considering that, I'd propose that you and Lord Pholus share a room again tonight, and if you both feel well in the morning, we'll know it worked and that keeping you separated while sleeping is a poor idea," Colbert continued.

"Why?" Jophiel piped up.

"Well," Osmand interjected. "Assuming the Familiar Bond is the cause of your irritable states upon waking, if you two are kept separate for enough consecutive nights in a row, you will both grow more and more unreasonably angry in the mornings until you start getting violent."

That caught Jophiel off guard. "Seriously? So you're saying that we're going to have to sleep next to each other for the rest of our lives or become violent loons?"

"No no," Colbert waved his hand dismissively. "Just until the Familiar Bond has had the chance to fully form and you both share a mental connection that will sustain itself across great distances. Making you both uncomfortable when apart for too long in the early stages of a Master-Familiar pairing is just to incentivise you to remain close enough for the bond to solidify itself."

"Meaning that we should just need to sleep in relatively close proximity to each other for a while, then we can sleep entirely separately," Louise elucidated. "It's purely a distance thing, so sleeping on opposite sides of a wall shouldn't count as being apart, but-"

"Let's just keep it simple tonight, Miss Vallière. Lord Pholus will bunk in your room again, and if you both awaken happy, we'll know it worked," Osmand cut her off in his high, raspy voice.

Jophiel sighed. It was really more of an annoyance than anything, he was no out of control hormonal teenager, but he'd just rather have his own damned room to himself.

"Understood, sir," the largest of the men in the room replied.

"Good, so, with that settled-" Osmand began.

"W-wait! What about our contract?" Only to be cut off by Louise.

Colbert sighed. "We still have yet to hear back from your parents on the matter, Miss Vallière. Regardless, I assure you we'll have it formalized and finalized in due time. For now, you just focus on your studies and practising your magic."

Louise looked put off by that, but nodded in affirmation.

Jophiel hadn't considered what Louise's family would think of their arrangement before then.

 _[Mother of fucking Christ, her parents are going to want me_ castrated _, aren't they…?]_ He internally screamed.

"So, for now, I believe we're done here," Colbert declared. "I would suggest you spend the rest of the day practising, Miss Vallière."

Louise nodded. "That would be wise, yes."

At that, she rose from her seat, and Jophiel followed suit.

"I'd recommend you accompany her for the rest of the day, Lord Pholus," Osmand began. "You two should spend more time in each other's company, as most Masters and Familiars do."

Not having had any other plans for the rest of the day anyways, Jophiel nodded in agreement.

"May the Founder watch over your studies, Miss Vallière," Osmand stated.

"May the Mind expand your knowledge and keep your wisdom, sirs," Louise said back and slightly bowed before about-facing and heading for the door to the spiral staircase.

Giving the two men a nod, Jophiel set off after her. He'd heard that saying used a lot as a farewell lately, and figured it had something to do with their religion, but… wasn't feeling up to dipping his toes in that particular boiling pot yet.

With a shrug, he continued to follow Louise without much comment.

* * *

"Okay…" The tiny blonde began, holding her metallic wand in front of her, directed at a pail of water in the middle of her room.

"So… what're you trying to do here?" Jophiel asked from her side before she got started.

"Oh, uh, levitation practise. I'm going to try to lift the water out of the bucket, suspend it in the air for as long as I can, and return it without spilling anything," she explained simply enough.

"Well, alright, don't let me distract you from it," Jophiel nodded while gesturing towards the copper bucket.

He'd seen quite a few examples of magic in action since he'd arrived, and even the simplest of spells were a sight to behold.

Not that he could let it show, of course.

Louise refocused on the water, furrowed her brow, lifted her wand above her head, and thrust it downwards towards the bucket.

"Levitate!"

It took Jophiel a few moments to process what just happened as he was disoriented by a great, nearly painfully loud _CRACK_ that rebounded off the walls of the room, and he was suddenly soaking wet, along with everything else.

He blinked owlishly as Louise remained in her place, water rapidly running down her clothes and pooling at her feet as she started trembling in place.

"...What just happened?" He eventually managed to ask through his stupification as his hair and clothes were weighed down and clung to his body unpleasantly. Because he just had to pick _that_ day to not wear his waterproof rain cloak, right?

"The Zero failed to cast another cantrip-class spell! That's what!" The tiny blonde screeched as she threw her wand across the room, causing a distinctive metallic cling as it bounced off the wall and came to a clattering halt on the ground.

She remained still, her shoulders quaking as she clutched her fists hard enough that Jophiel was concerned that she might draw blood.

"Damn it… Damn it!" She cried stepping forward and kicking the bucket across the room and into her dresser, causing a terrible ruckus and sending what little water remained in it spilling all over the floor.

"W-whoa, Louise calm down-" Jophiel started in a half-panic, uncertainly placing his hand on her shoulder-

"No!" She shouted, slapping away his appendage and stomping her foot on the fine wood panelled floor, causing a pitiful splash of water as she did so. "It- it was supposed to be different! I- I was supposed to stop being a _failure!"_

 _[Fucking hell… this isn't how I was expecting this to go…!"_ Jophiel internally groused, completely caught off guard by the critically failed spell and Louise's resulting outburst.

"I did it! I summoned a familiar! I cast a spell! For the first time in my life, when I needed it the most, the Founder smiled on me, let me _succeed!_ " She was shouting as her entire body was so tense she trembled from head to toe, not at Jophiel, just… letting a dam he hadn't realised was in place break open. "Why… _Why!?_ My pedigree is without flaw! My siblings are natural _triangles!_ I try! I try so hard! I practise night and day! I try so much harder than anyone else! And I'm _mocked_ for it!"

Not knowing what else to do, being as overwhelmed as he was, Jophiel grabbed Louise and pulled her into a tight hug, hoping that holding her would stop her from lashing out again, if nothing else.

"I… I just want to make my family proud… For everyone to stop mocking me, looking at me like a misshapen dog…" She'd stopped yelling, and began quietly hiccuping and sobbing, trembling in Jophiel's grasp. "W-what did I do? W-why do the Founder and the Allfather punish me so? I'm devout, I adhere to their teachings, I do not abuse my authority… Why do they torment me, why tantalize me with success, only to snatch it away…?"

Jophiel had to shift his grip down to support the girl from the small of her back, as she started to go limp.

"Please… tell me why…" she whimpered as Jophiel quickly become the only thing supporting her.

He didn't know what to think. She'd been a little overly emotional since he'd met her, but for the most part seemed to have an even head from what he'd seen of her the past few days. He was _not_ expecting her to just blow up the way she had, to just break down so suddenly.

Of course, he had noticed that she didn't seem to have any friends. None of her peers really acknowledged her despite her high station, called her 'the Zero' behind her back…

He hadn't realised it was so bad, though.

"...Hey, I'm here, aren't I? I'm not going anywhere, understand?" Jophiel quietly offered in an attempt at a soothing voice.

She weakly replied in a shaky voice. "Only because I stole you-"

"You stop with that," he cut her off, firmly yet gently. "Nobody is making me stay, I _want_ to be here, I _want_ to help you. Got it?"

That... wasn't entirely true, but calming and reassuring the girl took priority right then and there.

She was quiet for a few moments, and eventually, he felt her small arms tightly wrap themselves around his waist.

"...T-thank you… Jophiel…" She managed to choke out. "Thank you…"


	5. Forgotten Truths

**Pre-Story Notes** :  
 _*Forgets to post new chapter to Fan Fiction and Archive of Our Own after posting to Spacebattles, panic posts both chapters to FF & AO3 at once two days late.*_

* * *

 **Chapter 05 - Forgotten Truths**

* * *

His body was unresponsive, his breath thick, his arms stiff and pallid as a corpse, his armour heavy like lead, his underclothes clung to his body wet with strength-sapping icy rain. He wanted nothing more than to stop. To drop to his knees, collapse into a pile, and sleep for an eternity.

But gazing outward at _them_ , the ever-encroaching crimson tide threatening to engulf and consume all, he stood tall with grim determination, ignoring the mud in his boots, his hurting feet, his stinging eyes, his burning soul.

What were once his comrades were charging, as they ever did, unceasingly, unerringly, mindlessly; their unbreaking shields protecting them against the mightiest of magics, casting aside pyroclasms to turn volcanoes to ash, brushing off tornadoes to rend mountains to dust, jeering at floods to tear great terrible gouges into the sturdiest of bedrock, sneering upon quakes to render the very foundations of the earth itself.

Nothing would stop them. Nothing _could_ stop them.

Save for, perhaps...

Looking to his right, his Spear was in place, runes on his right hand shimmering with eldritch light. The once gentle gaze of the large man locked forward and simmering with pity and hate at the sight of the endless horde, only briefly broke to refocus on him. For but a moment, and with one affirming, resolute nod, one he'd come to be so familiar with, so dependant on, he'd felt his resolve return tenfold.

Looking to his left, his Shield braced firm. Ready to lay down everything in defense of the greater good. Her sapphire eyes broke free from the seemingly endless horde advancing on them, turning to lock with his own. She removed her marked left hand, runes aglow with power from the hilt of her terrible great sword, reaching between them and caressing his gruff, bearded cheek with a gentle, beatific smile that stretched between her elongated ears.

No words were exchanged, none needed to be said. She was his, and he was hers, and they would be together, in life, or in death.

He felt his resolve return a thousandfold.

Looking to his back, his Mind, runes upon his brow glimmering with a fae radiance, in spite of his diminutive form he stood tall among his warriors- his people, his _family_. Clutching in his hands the book which held the secrets they could only hope would lead to their victory, he nodded once back at him.

Tall and mighty, stout and rugged, lithe and fair. No matter their shape or background, his people were his life's blood, and they stood united against this threat; his Mind commanding them, directing them far greater than he could have ever hoped to.

They were ready.

Stepping forth, holding his staff aloft, he opened his third eye, peering into the endless eternity of the beyond, into realms in which not even the gods dared tread.

 _There, it saw him._

Beginning the fel chant, he would protect those he cherished…

 _It reached out to him._

...Against all threats, all horrors from beyond the scope of mortal ken, he focused his soul, he saw beyond the limits of reality…

 _The Void touched him._

...He would _break_ them. No matter the cost.

 _The Void empowered him._

He cried the antediluvian words at the behest of the great, eldritch existence. Words alien, foreign to the tongues of man and gods as they were.

 _The Void chose him._

He understood them as if they were his mother tongue.

 _"Great Dispel!"_

And the tide was broken, their unyielding shields of the purest magic collapsed like walls built upon sand, their hold on the desecrated dead was severed.

Their charge was halted.

Moments passed in disbelieving silence, the sound of rain hitting the wet, porous mud being the only audible noise for miles, as if the entire army had collectively held their breath at once.

Then, the first great fire serpents tore across the corrupted battlefield, burning away the devoured earth beneath them as they crashed into the once unstoppable legions of the damned, searing, boiling, _purifying_ flesh.

Then, great water jets formed from the rain itself, so focused that they carved through the hordes like a blade through the air, releasing their comrades from their torment.

Then, countless spears of wind lanced across the field, punching through their lines like great ballistae bolts, pulping their mass, leaving no form to be puppeteered.

Then, the earth itself _roiled_ , swallowing up entire battalions, returning them to the world which birthed them, to their final resting place, as the gods intended.

The power of the gods, coupled with power beyond the gods.

They had found their salvation.

He turned to his people.

For the first time in a long time, Brimir smiled.

* * *

He blinked. For a moment, panic overtook him. His men were gone, his family nowhere to be seen, replaced by a strange environment he'd never-

Louise blinked again.

She was sitting upright in her bed, in her room. All was quiet, all was well, yet her heart pounded in her chest like an orcish war drum.

The dream, it had been so real. Like she was actually there, fighting _them,_ the Varyag. It was so real that she almost thought she was still the man upon waking.

That man…

"Brimir…" she quietly intoned.

She could remember every little detail, every drop of rain, every pang of unspeakable terror at the horrific sights before her, the awakening, truest sense of hope she'd ever felt when…

When she'd cast a Void spell.

The blonde was still, silent, unsure of what to think.

She could recall the words she'd spoken in the dream as clear as day, almost felt an urge to reach for her wand on her nightstand, to…

She shook her head violently, causing her soft, silken wavy hair to fling about messily. She wouldn't entertain such _sacrilegious_ thoughts. In the dream, she was the Founder himself, and she- _he…_ loved an _elf!?_

She was legitimately tempted to take the riding crop her sister Eleanore had provided for her in the off-chance that she summon an unruly familiar, absurd as the very idea was, and use it on herself as repentance. Such fantasies were disgusting, _blasphemous_ in the extreme! The Founder, looking upon one of the enemy of mankind with such genuine love and longing? An elf looking upon _him_ the same way!?

The dwarves… the dwarves she could understand! They were mankind's most stalwart of allies in ages past, but _elves!?_

She would need to visit the shrine to the gods and pray for repentance before classes began, even if doing do caused her to miss breakfast.

Shaking her head again, though far more gently this time, Louise sighed. What could have spurred such an absurd dream?

The thought bothered her greatly, though she forced it to the back of her mind. She had more immediate concerns to tend to.

She glanced aside, to the couch that had been pushed up against her bed the night prior.

To her _familiar_.

Jophiel was sleeping, so still and soundless that the subtle motion of his rising and falling chest being the only sign that he wasn't a fresh corpse.

She still wasn't sure what to think of him.

She'd kidnapped him outright, taken him from his own home without his consent… that much was clear, and yet he did not seem to resent her for it.

In fact, he had embraced her the night previous, supported her both figuratively and literally when she'd nearly broken down for the fourth time that month, asserted that he was there willingly and had no intention of leaving her side.

Was he truly so selfless? Or was he merely attempting to make the best of a bad situation? She could just ask him outright, though… that would be akin to spitting on his face. One should not question gifts. Least of all from the being given to them by the Founder himself.

Either way, his kindly nature reminded her a great deal of her gentler sister, Cattleya. So quick to soothe her aches despite her own numerous hardships…

She leaned closer to him, to peer at his alien visage. He did not look like any of the peoples of Halkegenia. Louise had seen all sorts in her time as the daughter of a family only one step down from royalty, and his features were utterly foreign to the realm of man.

Could it be that in ages past, the expeditions Brimir had sent across the sea in search of a land free of the oppressive elves, yet never returned had found a new world? Could he be a descendant of theirs? From a society that had over two-thousand years to diverge entirely from her own?

It was possible. Though he did not casually use magic as many of her peers did, to the point that she suspected most of them would not know how to handle a spoon without a wand, he did have magic.

That was made _very_ clear when Professor Colbert cast a spell of magic detection on him in the infirmary, and only further affirmed when he came to later in the day, speaking with everyone with nary a hitch using translation magic so powerful that it worked _flawlessly in real time,_ _both ways_.

Not to mention the quality of his clothing. Only a noble could afford such finely fitted, sewed, and closely-knit clothes. And the exotic and expensive materials and dyes…

His demeanour was somewhat off from what one would expect of a local noble, but… he did little to disavow anyone of notions towards his apparent nobility, so he must be one. Right?

Looking over his form again, Louise's eyes drifted over his left hand, resting across his chest, bearing his strange familiar runes.

Her eyes widened considerably. Though they were not alight, they looked _just like_ the runes that had been on the left hand of the elf, the Founder's Shield…

She shook her head again. It was just a stupid dream, nothing she should take seriously.

Pressing such thoughts out of her mind, she glanced up and out the window. She'd awakened somewhat early, by the looks of things.

Glancing back down at Jophiel… that dream aside, she was feeling fine that morning.

The Headmaster and Professor Colbert must have been right, then.

Scooting over to the other side of the bed, she hopped out, and while the man was still sleeping, quickly climbed out of her nightgown and changed into a clean uniform. She'd visit the shrine to the old gods and return before he'd awaken. Then they'd go to see Osmand and Colbert afterwards.

After that… well, Jophiel would have a lot of time to kill while she was attending classes, as per usual.

* * *

"Well, that settles it then," Osmand began, tapping on the arm of his fine office chair. "Lord Pholus, you'll be using the unclaimed room next to Miss Vallière's from here on out, and your beds shall be arranged to rest on opposite sides of the same wall, to fulfill the proximity requirements of the bond."

Indeed, Jophiel had felt great upon waking, and Louise, despite having obviously been up and about before him had asserted that she was fine herself and just woke earlier than usual.

Unfortunately, Louise, being a high-ranking noble living on-site, simply could not be assigned one of the spare guest's rooms, so he'd have to board in the girl's dorms.

The thought was annoying, but he'd grunt and bear with it. It couldn't really be helped. At least, not until the bond was properly formed and he could be moved to the men's dorms without disrupting it, at least.

"Incidentally, Miss Vallière…" Osmand began straightening up in his seat. "We heard back from your parents this morning.

The girl visibly stiffened, concerningly enough.

"They approve of the terms laid out in the contract. Lord Pholus is now, officially, your guardian familiar."

The elderly man turned to the canuck.

"I trust you understand the gravity of this arrangement, young sir?"

"Absolutely," Jophiel said back. "I'll do my best to not screw this up, you have my word."

That seemed to content the man, who leaned back lazily in his chair again.

"Well, there you go young Miss. You can relax now," he asserted to the tiny blonde.

"R-right…" She exhaled deeply. "Okay, I… Believe that is all, yes?"

"Unless either of you has something else to ask or add, I believe so," Colbert replied.

Osmand turned to the smaller desk to the right of his own. "You're noting all of this, yes, Miss Longueville?"

"Dutifully," the long-haired bespectacled brunette dryly asserted. "Everything has been recorded for posterity, sir."

Osmand's secretary seemed to be a humourless sort, and had apparently been busy with something else on campus the last time they'd been there. Otherwise, she was fairly unremarkable. Pretty librarian type, just kind of there for the most part.

"Good, good… well, with that out of the way, I believe you three can go tend to your business for the rest of the day, whatever it may be."

Jophiel and Louise nodded as they rose to their feet.

"Your key shall be delivered to you at some point today, Lord Pholus. Just as soon as the requisite paperwork is fulfilled," Longueville declared from her desk.

"Thank you, ma'am," Jophiel said in turn.

After exchanging farewells, Jophiel and Louise departed from Osmand's tower ahead of Colbert, the latter concerned about the great weight on her shoulders which refused to leave in spite of the good news.

That dream refused to cease eating away at her.


	6. Cloak and Dagger

**Pre-Story Notes** :  
 _Good god, doing these daily updates is starting to get really hard, man..._

* * *

 **Chapter 06 - Cloak and Dagger**

* * *

With Louise gone to attend her classes for the day, Jophiel was left with little to do. Again.

Wandering off to explore the courtyard, _again_ , he decided to go and poke around one of the buildings he'd still not stuck his head into yet. A fairly sizable stone structure which he could only describe as Franco-Greco-Nordic, which was every bit as awesome as it sounded.

There was little- rather, no real visible traffic around the place.

His curiosity peaked, Jophiel approached.

As he got closer, he began to smell the faint scent of soap. So a bathhouse, likely.

Stepping through the wide open archways, the smell grew all the stronger, and he further confirmed that it seemed as though the place was empty, lit by skylights in the ceiling.

Venturing further in, if only because he legitimately had nothing better to do, he prepared to regail himself with the washing methods of another world.

* * *

Or so he thought he would, until he heard a familiar, pleasant humming coming from deeper within the building.

Jophiel would not mind talking to Siesta right then at all.

Following the voice, he quickly found the maid in question all by her lonesome on the far side of what seemed to be the laundry room, kneeling over a bucket and doing laundry by the looks of things. Her back was to the entrance, so she'd not seen him come in.

Bored as he was, a mischievous grin appeared on his face. Jophiel began to slowly creep up on her, as quietly as he could, calling upon his hunting experience to sneak upon the girl silently.

In a deceptively short amount of time, he was across the room and leaning over _juuuuuuust_ right, so that when she reached over to grab another item from the pile of dirty clothes she was working on, she'd see his face grinning at her with a slasher smile out of the corner of her vision.

But a few moments passed before she turned, her melodic hum catching in her throat for but an instant before being replaced by a high-pitched squeal.

And she reflexively thrust the full bucket in her hand outwards at him.

A few moments passed in tense silence as Jophiel remained completely still, soapy water running off of him to pool on the stone tiled floor and causing his clothes to, again, cling unpleasantly to his body, as well as his hair to be weighed down heavily. Because it just happened to be another day where he'd forgoed his waterproof rain cloak.

Siesta's eyes were as wide as dinner plates and her skin lost all its colour as she began to process what just happened, and she realised that she'd just threw a bucket's worth of dirty water on a noble's face.

Worse yet, it was _Jophiel_ she'd just humiliated.

Stunned into silence, too fearful to move or even speak, Siesta could bring herself to do nothing. The gentle trickle of running water being the only noise in the room.

Then, a loud, uncouth, orc-like snort broke the silence in the otherwise empty washhouse.

Jophiel was doubled over, chortling and wheezing uproariously like a drunken peasant.

He kept that up for a good half minute before calming down, as the petrified maid struggled to process this new information.

"G-good to see that karma works fast in this world!" Jophiel chuckled, falling back onto his rump with a highly amused smile stretching across his face.

It was the first time she'd seen him smile so broadly.

He looked at her for a moment, then started wheezing and sputtering again.

Now, with him sitting in front of her on the floor of a room most nobles would never think to enter, soaked head-to-toe and seemingly _enjoying_ his humiliation…

Well, humour _is_ infectious.

Siesta placed her free hand over her mouth, attempting to stifle her own building giggling, but to no avail as he just didn't let up despite the sorry condition he was in.

Eventually, she was barely keeping from snorting aloud herself. Of all the situations she'd ever expected to find herself in, this wasn't one of them.

"I-I-I…" She eventually managed to begin, noting that despite his amusement over the ordeal, he _was_ still a noble… "I beg your forgiveness, mi-"

He waved his hand dismissively, leaning on the other from his spot on the floor right in front of her.

"Nah nah, come on, I had that coming! You have nothing to apologize for Siesta," he giggled out as his laughter finally began to die down.

Such a strange, _strange_ man. The more time she spent around him… the more down-to-earth and approachable he seemed. He just wasn't like other nobles, not taking himself anywhere near as seriously as others did in private, reserved, appreciative, being humble and of good humour…

She was finding it harder and harder to deny that Jophiel was actually enjoyable to be around.

"S-so…" He began, wiping his face with his free hand. "I'm sorry, I just made your job harder for you, didn't?"

And how could she forget _considerate?_

"I-it is fine, Sir. I need only fetch more water from the heated reservoir, and soap is plentiful in the academy," the girl asserted with an increasingly shy smile.

"And where is this reservoir?" He asked with a good-natured smile.

"Oh, um, it is just back there, on the other side of the room, the stream in that open pipe…" she started, pointing back at the object of concern.

Then stopped and was stunned into silence again when Jophiel stood, reached over, took the now empty bucket from her hand and traipsed over to the heated stream, dunking the bucket into it and returning with fresh water for her.

"There we go, recompense for frightening you," he stated as he set the pail down before stepping back and leaning on one of the room's many working tables.

Siesta really wasn't sure what to think of Jophiel.

He was so _different_ from other nobles.

It was almost like he wasn't one of them at all.

She glanced down at the bucket he'd placed before her. Perhaps his people had a different relationship with commoners… regardless, she was beginning to feel glad that he was so unlike them.

And even gladder when he chose to remain there with her for a few more hours while she tended to her duties.

* * *

Waving off the pretty half-Asian girl as he stepped out of the washhouse, now garbed in a clean set of clothes courtesy of her, Jophiel contentedly sighed.

He just couldn't help himself after she splashed him like that. All the tension in his body dissolved in an instant, and he couldn't bring himself to keep up the stuffy noble facade.

It was downright liberating after six days of pomping around like a total git.

 _[I'm gonna have to try talking to that girl alone more often,]_ he thought to himself as he started wandering off to kill time until sundown again.

As he did so, he couldn't help but reflect on the conversation he'd had with her.

It seemed that her family was going through some tough times financially, and she was kind of working overtime and sending everything she didn't need to feed herself back to them… He was starting to like Siesta, and didn't enjoy the thought of her having to work herself to the bone just to make ends meet.

Grimacing, he only wished that he'd grabbed something of value on his way out of his room back on Earth, not a bag holding several pounds of fucking aluminum cans-

Jophiel stopped dead in his tracks as he recalled something _very significant_ about pre-modern society.

Aluminum only became a throw-away metal after the 1850's.

It was worth more than _gold_ prior to that.

He had several _pounds_ of refined aluminum in a bag in Louise's room. The handle scales on his fucking _sword_ were made from _pure aluminum._

Jophiel took a moment to place his hands on his head, and breath.

It took all of his will to not tear off his shirt and dance around the courtyard joyfully screaming about how _rich_ he'd just realised he was.

A wide smile stretched across his face at the revelation.

 _[Looks like Siesta's financial woes are going to become a thing of the past in short order here…]_ he chuckled mirthfully as he started walking along again, then, he caught himself as a sobering thought jammed itself into his mind. _[...What if they can magically refine aluminum here already?]_

Louise couldn't get out of classes soon enough.

* * *

"THAT BAG IS FULL OF WHAT!?" The fun-sized blonde _screamed_ at Jophiel when he brought up the question of aluminum's worth to her.

Turned out that yes, Halkegenia was aware of aluminium, and no, they did not have a method to refine it in any significant quantities, making it still _very much_ a precious metal in their society.

"This- Jophiel! Do you realise how _wealthy_ you are!?" Louise cried out again.

His bag of trash was, in fact, worth a fair bit more than its weight in gold.

He was practically vibrating with excitement.

"Come!" She declared, rushing to for her door.

"W-wait, for what?" He asked, surprised by her sudden command.

"To Professor Colbert's office! I know for a fact he has a scale there, we need to determine just _how_ wealthy you are now!"

He was _literally_ vibrating with excitement.

* * *

The next day was a rather enjoyable one, all things considered. Louise had dragged Jophiel to the Professor's office, and after a brief explanation to the man, they'd measured out the combined weight of the cans.

Jophiel's net worth?

 _A fair amount._

So he could not help but float about on cloud nine after he'd climbed out of bed, and had a very pleasant day spent with Siesta and Louise both. Nothing of particular note occured on that day, beyond a brief discussion between Louise and himself on the nature of her magic.

There were four elements, and all mages had a natural affinity for one over the others. Earth, Fire, Wind, and Water. Louise… could not manage to utilize _any_ of them, nor even entry-level elementless magic like levitate. This confused Jophiel to no small amount, and he'd pressed about what she'd thought her element could be.

Strangely, she'd grown extremely quiet and clammed up at the question, refusing to continue the discussion further.

Not feeling up to pissing her off, Jophiel decided that he'd look into doing research into the elements on his own later. With luck, he'd stumble his way onto something that would help her out. Though he wasn't going to be holding his breath.

* * *

That night, Jophiel had happened upon Siesta after she was done work for the day, and after explaining his plans to her, she revealed that she actually knew how to read.

Which was rather convenient for him, given that the translation magic still affecting him didn't seem to extend to written language.

Spending a few hours in the rather opulent library, Jophiel was peering over Siesta's shoulder as she flipped through page upon page of textbooks and reading aloud to him on the nature of the elements and spellcasting, revealing… rather little.

He learned that mages were divided into classes, Dot being the lowest class, Line the second up, Triangle the third, and Square the most powerful.

Otherwise...

It was all quite dry, and Jophiel, while a curious sort, wasn't the type to revel in academic prose. Not to mention that he himself was not of Alfheim, and wouldn't be able to apply of this knowledge to himself to begin with.

The only thing that he could suspect after doing as much reading as he did with Siesta, was that Louise might represent an entirely new element. The blonde _clearly_ had magical talent of some sort, else she'd not have been able to affect anything at _all_ with her attempts, let alone successfully summon a familiar. The trick in this case simply seemed to be discovering what her particular quirk was.

Something he'd have to nudge her into experimenting with, if her earlier reluctance to discuss the issue was any indication.

"Well, thank you for your help, Siesta. I didn't really expect much to come of this, but it was worth a shot," he sighed.

The maid nodded somewhat ruefully. "Unfortunately, yes, Lady Vallière has spent much time here herself doing much the same kind of research, though… the effort is what matters though, I think."

He nodded along himself, and out of the corner of his eye, noted a familiar face skulking about.

Colbert, who seemed to be almost hiding away in an disused corner of the room, curiously enough.

It was odd, but hardly any of his business what the teacher did in his free time, so he shrugged his shoulders and decided that he and Siesta were done there.

"We might as well get going now. Not much point to sticking around at this point," Jophiel noted while taking the tome the girl had been reading, and putting it back on a nearby shelf.

She didn't protest as they set off for the night.

* * *

Colbert sighed in relief as Pholus departed with the exotic little maid. He'd almost suspected that the young man had noticed and might draw attention to him, though the Founder was feeling merciful, by the looks of things.

Yes, he was there for a reason, to see how long-

"Ah, Mister Stephen! What a happy coincidence, happening upon you here!"

-it would take Longueville to track him down. Or rather, how long it would take _Fouquet_ to track him down.

"A happy coincidence indeed, Miss Longueville, how may I help you tonight?"

The older Fire Magics teacher was initially _furious_ when Sam returned from a flight a few days prior to find a smaller messenger pigeon in his talons, but once he'd actually read the attached note to determine who it belonged to…

The master thief was certainly a sly one, he had to give her that. Though she'd screwed up to no small degree by not properly sealing or enchanting her letter to her employers to self-combust if handled without being properly disenchanted. But not only that, she hadn't even used a moderately effective cypher to hide the contents of the letter!

Breaking into the academy vault to get to the Staff of Destruction. Such a tall, and _dangerous_ order. To get inside, she'd need to have intimate knowledge on how to overcome the enchantments protecting it from uninvited ingress.

"Well, I was simply curious…" She started playing with her long, brunette locks, a light blush playing across her delicate features as she gazed up at him through her long, captivating eyelashes. "Have you given consideration to my request?"

Knowledge which he, an utterly unassuming, bumbling fool of a teacher could _surely_ be tricked into revealing by a pretty young woman batting her eyelashes at him over a nice dinner, yes?

The note alone would have been enough to have her detained and investigated, and surely arrested shortly afterwards. Fouquet the Decaying Earth was a venomously hated criminal, one who had earned a well-deserved reputation among the nobles of Halkegenia.

So why had he brought the note to the messenger cages, tied it to another bird's leg, and sent it on its way again?

"As a matter of fact, I have," the older man stated with a kindly smile. "I think I have spare time right now, as a matter of fact…

Well, what would be the fun in allowing the proper authorities to be the ones to capture the wayward Square class?

The brunette smiled beautifully at the older man. "Ah, I'm so glad! I was thinking of this fine little spot near the apple groves…"

In the time it had been since he'd set down his sword, he'd come to realise… he missed the thrill of a good _game_ , of a dangerous duel. Yes… it had been too long since the Serpent of Undulating Flame had tested his might against an equal.

He'd grown bored resting on his laurels. She would commit to her scheme, and when she enacted it, he would be there. Ready to challenge a fellow Square class for the first time in a long time.

Yes...

This glory would be _his_.


	7. Thicc Woofers

**Pre-Story Notes** :  
 _FINALLY. My muse can be such an uncooperative bitch!_

* * *

 **Chapter 07 - Thicc Woofers**

* * *

"You all ready to go? We'll need to leave right away if we're to arrive before the sun sets." Louise asked as Jophiel stepped out of the girl's dorm to meet her on the landing.

The next day was 'The Founder's Day,' a holiday, so Louise decided that it was as good a time as any for a shopping trip to the nearby capital of Tristain, the city of Bruxelles, pronounced identically to 'Brussels.' Both so she could stock up on her own things, and so Jophiel could offload his aluminum to a source with connections to her family for the best deal possible

Remembering that Siesta's family was struggling with money, he wasn't about to complain about getting hard currency to gift to her.

He'd also made a point to remove all the tabs from the cans before packing them up for resale. He was going to make aluminum tab necklaces, which would _surely_ go for a fair amount with the artful method he'd use to weave them together. He'd left them back in his room, was already nearly done with the first, and would finish it upon getting back from their trip.

All that time spent making aluminum tab jewellery during that two week stint without power in a fire lookout tower wasn't wasted after all!

"Yup," Jophiel replied, bag of detabbed cans in hand.

She nodded. "Let's get going then."

* * *

Jophiel was rooted to the spot, eyes wide, staring forward in naked awe.

He recalled Louise not knowing what horses were, which confused him, but didn't follow up on it on account of the more immediately pressing issues at the time, and he'd forgotten about the point once things had calmed down.

So he was caught off guard when Louise stepped out of what he'd figured was a stable, and started saddling up a pair of giant doggos.

They were massive, the larger between them had to be 5'5" at the shoulder! It was large enough that it could rest its chin on the top of Louise's head! The smaller was about 5'0" at the shoulder. Noticeably smaller, but still the size of a _large fucking bear._

The bigger one looked like a monstrously overgrown Saint Bernard, the smaller a massive Irish Wolfhound.

Each one had to be at least 1000 pounds, if not more.

The tiny, five-foot-nothing blonde was ushering them both along like a pair of sheep.

Jophiel had to take a moment to process what he was seeing.

Louise approached him, the two immense woofers padding along after her, their sheer size becoming all the more apparent as they got closer.

The Dire Bernard's legs were built like tree trunks!

"Alright, you're a fair bit bigger than most, so to be on the safe you're gonna ride Sleppy with me while Cu packs our purchases for us," she stated as she reached up and scratched the chin of the Bernard. "Oh, and this is Sleipnir, by the way. He's my droog, Mother bred him specifically for me. Isn't he magnificent?"

Indeed, his poofy fur was rather majestically billowing in the wind.

"Y-yeah…" Jophiel haltingly replied.

"Alright," Louise began, giving the mighty beast a hearty chin rub. "You have your gear? We'd best get going then!"

* * *

Jophiel had ridden horses before, so the idea of spending several hours on the back of a big-ass steed wasn't entirely alien to him.

Riding a droog, however, was… rather different.

Firstly, Sleipnir seemed to be a good deal smarter than the average horse. Louise would give concise verbal commands, and the dire dog would accurately obey without missing a beat, right down to ordering him to lay on his belly so the two could easily mount and dismount him for pit stops.

Secondly, the beast just moved differently compared to a horse. That made sense given that canids had inherently different locomotion compared to equines, but still. It kind of threw Jophiel for a loop.

The fact that Halkegenian saddles were, rather curiously, extremely primitive compared to those used on Earth, being little more than a padded sheet buckled onto the beast's back, lacking even stirrups didn't help matters much.

After a few hours, he got used to the rhythm of the hound's breathing and panting between his legs, and stopped focusing so hard on the idea that he was riding a giant dog.

At that point, he quickly got bored. Halkegenia was surprisingly… mundane, for a fantasy world. Occasionally, he'd spot a strange piece of flora which clearly didn't have a direct equivalent on Earth, but otherwise… It just felt like he was going for a ride on an old rural European road.

It didn't help that Louise seemed… content to ride in silence.

Aside from passing a few carriages coming to and from the academy, the ride to the town the girl had mentioned earlier was overall a fairly quiet one, all things considered.

* * *

Cresting over the hill atop the mighty canine, their pack hound dutifully padding up behind them, Jophiel was taken aback by the sight before him.

The city of Bruxelles had tall walls, perhaps three or so stories high all around the settlement boundaries. Hewn from the same white marble as the academy's fortress walls. Outside the walls were mostly farmlands, with some fenced-off areas near the entry gates that the man assumed were guard outposts. Blues seemed to be a popular tone for roof tiling, giving the town a fairly calm vibe from a distance.

There was a fair amount of traffic operating around the area. Serfs, merchants, soldiers, all sorts of characters. Beyond the farm lands were forests and fields that wouldn't look out of place in Europe.

The great fantasy castle and arena which overlooked the city were just the icing on the cake.

"Majestic, isn't it?" The fun-sized blonde asked from in front of the much bigger canuck.

It was, by modern standards, rather on the small side, however. Jophiel estimated a population of 40,000, at most.

"Yeah…" Was all he could say in response at that moment.

The girl nodded. "Well, we made good time. The sun's going to set soon, so let's see about finding an inn before it's too late."

Jophiel nodded despite Louise not being able to see him doing so from behind her, and they were quickly moving down towards the city proper.

* * *

Stepping out of the bank a while later, Jophiel was still having trouble processing that he was _legitimately rich_ now. And personally invested in a respected bank in a nation's capital city at that.

"Well, with that out of the way, we'd best go find an inn to stay at, yes?" Louise propositioned as she glanced both ways down the fine, well-paved road of the Noble district the two had been walked down to get there.

"Yeah, the bank teller suggested the 'Charming Faeries Inn' just fifteen or so minutes down the street that way, right?" Jophiel spoke up himself, pointing down the street opposite the way they'd came. "It's supposed to be pretty close to the market as well."

"Sounds perfect!" Louise chirped. "Well, let's get going then!"

Jophiel nodded and fell into step beside the pretty blonde… and did his best to ignore the looks he was getting from the locals.

Turned out that he very much was exotic as _fuck_ in Halkegenia. He'd seen a few people of a darker complexion than himself with middle eastern features and _red_ hair like Kirche, but there was nobody that resembled Jophiel at all. He saw one noble girl with dark brown hair tips, but Louise was quick to point out that her hair was obviously dyed that way, and her white tone was her natural colour.

Damn near everyone was also considerably shorter than him. He had to have six inches on the average full-grown man. Even Louise seemed to be only slightly below average in height, and he had a full head over her...

Needless to say, Jophiel stuck out like a sore thumb in Tristain.

He really wasn't used to being the centre of attention by virtue of simply _being there_ and looking different.

He ignored it and assured himself that he'd get used to it.

* * *

"Seems quant," Jophiel suggested as the pair looked over the nicely maintained, but fairly simple blue-roofed and white-painted two-story building marked by a cheerful-looking sign, which Louise noted identified it as the inn in question.

"It will do," Louise asserted while giving the building a critical once-over. "So long as the bedding is suitable for a noble, which it should be, given that we're still technically in the noble district, if on the outskirts."

Jophiel nodded and looked about the area. The street was wider than he'd been expecting, damn near on par with the mega streets he was used to as a native to the Americas with their giant-ass pick-em-up trucks and military assault vehicles being driven by soccer moms. He was sure that changed once one left the main street where all the nobles were, but still.

It was a _lot_ nicer, though. The cobblestone pavement was remarkably even and smooth, and much easier on the eyes than asphalt. The small trees lining the sides of the street were a nice touch as well.

Bruxelles was just nice to look at thus far. At least what he'd seen of it was. The slums were probably a total hole.

"Well, enough faffing about, let's get to it!" Louise declared after glancing up at the reddening sky. "We'll spend the night here, and do our shopping tomorrow before returning to the academy."

"Ma'am yes ma'am," Jophiel dutifully complied as he followed her into the building proper.

As the two stepped into the building, Jophiel couldn't help but note how sparsely decorated it was. The tables and chairs were nice enough, but were far from decorative, and the walls were pretty darned early modern, with criss-crossing support beams being plainly visible on them.

The building had a fairly rustic feel to it as a result.

Jophiel liked it well enough, but Louise seemed a little underwhelmed.

More importantly, though, was the girl standing at what seemed to be the front counter and bar. A gorgeous, long-haired beauty that bore a noticeable resemblance to Siesta, silken black hair and all.

That rather surprised Jophiel, to put it mildly.

And upon further thought, he remembered Siesta mentioning that one of her cousins ran an inn in the city at one point…

Small world.

A few moments passed in awkward silence as the desk girl seemed rather preoccupied with trying to get a mug to stand on its corner. Evidently, she'd not noticed the two of them come in.

Eventually, Louise seemed to get tired of being ignored, and not-so-subtly coughed to get the girl's attention.

The Siesta look-alike jumped at the sudden noise, and looked like a deer-in-headlights for split second before she seemed to catch herself and wheeled around the counter with a surprising quickness and grace, a wide smile blessing her gorgeous features.

Once she was around the corner, Jophiel couldn't help but notice that the girl was wearing a sturdy emerald green dress with an apron tied around her waist. What was more eye-catching, however, was the generously low-cut chest window that showed off a _lot_ of her ample cleavage.

If Siesta was the nice girl next door, this was probably her racier elder cousin.

"Hello Masters-" the girl cheerfully began before suddenly halting momentarily once she actually set her eyes on Jophiel, her eyes widening in apparent recognition for but a split second before she kept moving.

Jophiel was _pretty sure_ she was related to Siesta and in active communication with her now.

"-My name is Jessica, welcome to the Charming Faeries Inn! How may I serve you this evening?" she asked melodically with a girlish curtsy.

Louise spoke up, and down her nose before Jophiel could politely introduce himself back. "We'll be requiring rooms for the night, we'll take your finest beds, girl."

He just managed to avoid wincing at how rude Louise was being, not that Siesta's probable relative seemed to outwardly mind.

"Excellent milady! The noble suites just so happen to be vacant tonight! Will the noble lord and lady be requiring a morning wake-up and breakfast as well?" The long-haired ravenette cheerfully asked.

Louise nodded once. "Yes, we shall."

"Very well, if you'll both kindly accompany me to the front counter, we'll get your payment sorted out and provide you your keys for the night." Jophiel couldn't help noting how she was just taking Louise's domineering attitude in stride.

 _[...Is this how Louise treats all commoners?]_ Jophiel wondered as he glanced over at the tiny blonde while they followed the part-Japanese girl to the counter. Now that he considered it, he actually hadn't seen Louise interact with many, if any commoners in his time at the academy at all…

Perhaps it really was for the best that she thought he was a fellow noble then.

* * *

After Louise payed for their rooms (she insisted that she pay for both their accommodations), the two got their room keys and Jophiel quickly found himself standing alone in his own separate room on the second floor of the building. They were close enough that he and Louise shouldn't suffer familiar bond-induced separation anxiety, which he was grateful for. He really preferred having a room to himself.

She'd asserted that she was going to spend her free time studying, as she'd brought her textbook with her, and he didn't feel up to intruding on her attempts to figure out her magic, leaving him with not much to do until it got too dark to see.

Stepping out to the window, he gazed out at the rapidly darkening street below, lit only by pretty okay streetlamps.

He'd had some time to get used to the idea, but still… being in a fantasy world was something else, to put it mildly. He'd not seen anything _too_ over-the-top yet, but, of course, that was bound to change sooner or later…

Stepping back away from the window, Jophiel quietly wondered what he was going to do to pass the time until he went to bed. He'd had his Playstation Vita on him when he'd been summoned, but the battery on the damned thing had already died before he got isekai'd and was good for precisely jack and fuck-all unless he just so happened to find a way to charge it despite this world not having electricity yet.

So, obviously, he'd opted to leave it at the academy in his drawer.

He couldn't read the local language either, so there was little point in packing away a book as Louise had.

Glancing down at his hip, he quietly regarded his sword, and decided that he'd hone her edge and re-oil her just to pass the time.

Not like he had anything better to do that night.

* * *

About fifteen or so minutes into working the edge of his blade, a soft knock at the door caught Jophiel's attention.

He was quick to set the blade aside and stand from the simple desk that came with the room, and popped the door open, expecting to see Louise.

He was a tad surprising to find the Siesta look-alike beaming up at him from the hallway instead. She even seemed to be about Siesta's height, 5'2", maybe 2½.

"Hello, sir!" She cheerfully chirped. "Would you mind if I come in?"

He wasn't expecting that, but… it also was actually not bad. He probably should have thought of seeking out the girl himself, if only to find out if she was actually related to the familiar maid from the school after all.

She seemed to be friendly enough as well.

"No, not at all," Jophiel stated with an attempt at a disarming smile of his own as he stepped aside.

She was quick to traipse in like she owned the place… which wasn't actually untrue, probably.

"Pardon me though, miss," he said as he shut the door behind her. "But, you wouldn't happen to be related to Siesta, would you-"

"I knew it!" The black-haired woman forcefully interjected, getting all up in Jophiel's personal space as she did so. "You're Jophiel! The one little Si-Si has been going on about in her letters lately!"

Jophiel took a moment to regain his footing as he'd staggered back at her sudden advance on him.

"I, uh…" the much larger man stammered for a moment. "I must say, you have me at a bit of a disadvantage, miss…"

"Mmm, just the way I like it~" She purred- wait, what?

Jophiel was caught even further off-guard by that, and wasn't sure how to respond. After a few moments, the girl started chuckled musically.

"Aha, I'm sorry, but I couldn't resist after Siesta went on at length about how different you are from other nobles. Sometimes you just gotta test the waters, y'know?" She asked, apparently rhetorically. "Jessica, milord."

Taking a moment to recover, Jophiel eventually nodded. "Right, Jessica… pleased to meet you. Jophiel Pholus van Cazonium, at your service."

"At my service, you say? What kind of service, I wonder~?" she replied with a mischievous cat like grin as she leaned forward, giving a _very_ generous view down her already generously revealing blouse, once again, catching Jophiel off guard.

She, once again, broke out into a giggle fit.

"Oh my, you _really_ aren't like most nobles, are you?" She stood back up and took a step back. "Sorry, sorry, I just can't help myself when I see an opportunity to step out of bounds and make a noble sweat a bit… not that you mind, right?" She asked as she gave him big wide puppy-dog eyes and batted her long eyelashes at him.

 _[Oh lord, this girl is gonna be trouble, ain't she?]_ Jophiel could not help but wonder as he was idly reminded of Kirche, who, in fairness, was a good deal more forward than Jessica. The Arabic-looking girl was probably more serious about her teasing as well.

"Oh, don't make that face… okay, okay, I'll stop," the ravenette pouted as she gave Jophiel ample personal space.

She really was being _remarkably_ brazen for a commoner girl. Though, considering that she'd been in contact with Siesta, it made sense that she'd know _he_ was _remarkably_ laid-back for a noble.

Not to say that he didn't enjoy the teasing, it just caught him off guard, is all.

"Um," Jophiel cleared his throat before responding. "Thank you… anyways, was there something you needed, Jessica?"

"Aside from wanting to meet the curiously kind noble my little cousin has been raving about?" She innocently asked with a wide smile. "I was just thinking you might be bored, since Si-Si mentioned that you can't read our language, so you wouldn't exactly have a book to help pass the time, right?"

...She wasn't incorrect.

"So why don't you come downstairs? Business is really slow today, and it's already dark out so we're unlikely to get any more customers," she gave him puppy dog eyes again. "Please? I could really use the company…"

 _[Trouble indeed,]_ Jophiel silently intoned.

"Well… I suppose I don't have much else going on…" He allowed.

"Fantastic!" The long-haired beauty beamed as she took him by the hand and pulled him towards the door. "You can tell me all about your homeland and how different it is from Tristain!"

"Aw jeez," Jophiel groused as he could not resist a girl much smaller than him, as per usual. "Why am I always so powerless before such small girls?"

"Ooh, can't say no to a pretty face, huh?" Jessica started as she turned to give him another cat like grin. "Just the way I like 'em."

 _"Aw jeez,"_ Jophiel groused again once he realised that she'd be teasing him the entire night.


	8. Strange Gods and Stranger Moons

**Pre-Story Notes** :  
 _For the love of God, stop leaving questions and shit on guest accounts. Users can't reply to guests, and I'm not turning my notes section into a Q &A section. Make an account, **then** ask questions in reviews if you must._

* * *

 **Chapter 08 - Strange Gods and Stranger Moons**

* * *

The longship shifted to and fro, tossed about like a child's plaything in a basin of water. They were helpless before the seemingly endless expanse of sea around them in every direction, only the Allfather's mercy keeping them from falling into utter despair as more and more of his subjects grew certain that their voyage was doomed, that they would die ignominiously at sea.

The pale, dim glow of Máni shining down from the darkened heavens above was the only light by which the colonial expedition fleet could see. With no source of flame upon their vessel of wood and cloth, they could only rely upon what little illumination the Gods provided as they sailed in hopes of reaching the fabled Vinland, a new, temperate home for his people to settle upon.

A home where no man would be bereft of land to farm, timber to fell, game to hunt… where they could live in prosperous peace. Away from the hardships of their ancestral birthland.

The purportedly quick-to-violence Skraelings might prove troublesome, though the young king was sure that peace was attainable with the men of the land of wine if only they were to make contact and be generous in their barter and offerings. He sought only a better life for his people, to make their history of bloodshed a thing of the past, a long-distant memory only known only through their great sagas.

 _If_ they actually made it.

Sitting with an arm upon his knee at the stern of the shield-bearing vessel, Brimir Tristanson idly wondered if truly made the right decision in departing from the shores of the northlands, in risking so many lives for an uncertain future.

His thoughts, however, were broken by a firm slap to the back.

"Hold fast, little king," Andreas, his right hand man and old family friend began with a toothy grin from behind his thick-bearded visage. "The gods have yet to abandon us, else we'd be already feeding the fishes, yeah?"

Andreas' way with words oft left much to be desired.

"Jus' ignore the weaklings complaining. They're just sore 'cause we gotta eat sparingly 'till we make landfall. You'd think they'd all be bloody well used to being hungry by now!" The older man continued under his breath. "Point is, we know the place exists, we just have to reach it, right? We're a hardy folk, always have been. We'll tough this out as we ever have. Then, when we pull the longships up on the beaches of this New World, we'll all get shit-faced and start building a fine palace fit for such an ambitious king while ruinously hungover!"

Despite the situation, Brimir found a smile creeping across his face at the declaration, least of all because he'd known Andreas long enough to understand that grumbling and wincing because he was having to hammer nails with a pounding hangover was something the man was in fact prone to doing.

"So chin up lad," his right hand continued. "I have faith that the gods are watching over us-"

"Sir!" Came the panicked voice of a young man just old enough to carry an axe into battle from further up the deck. "Y-your highness! Look, in the distance, a… some unearthly fel storm fast approaching!"

Brimir and Andreas were quick to their feet and at the man's side, peering out across the blackened ocean in search of what had him so concerned. A storm at sea was a dangerous prospect, something worthy of deep concern.

Yet far out, clear as day despite Máni hanging high in the sky above, was a foggy storm Brimir could only describe as ethereal, utterly fae and eldritch, it shone with a bright emerald glow, not that of the northern lights, swirling in and around itself, it was tearing across the wavy waters straight towards them with an unnatural quickness.

As it approached, Brimir could hear a deep rumbling accompany it as the other fleets sounded off their warning drums to alert everyone of the oncoming danger. There was little else to do but wake the men and have everyone brace for the nightmarish storm's impending impact, and Brimir began to wonder if they'd truly been damned by the deities they'd worshiped since time immemorial.

His hand gripping his chest, finding purchase around the golden cross plundered from the Christians to the south, the nordic king once again found himself wondering if he'd been praying to the wrong god.

* * *

Brimir had expected the fel storm to hammer at the fleet for hours, to be enveloped by the horrid green-glowing fog and left blind until some god saw fit to show mercy upon them.

What he hadn't expected, was for the night to suddenly shift to noon, the waters to become calm and bright as little more than a single harsh jolt shook the longship before all was well.

He'd only blinked, and yet there they were. Every crewmember whipping their heads around in abject confusion, clearly struggling to process what had happened just as their king had.

The fleet was still all together, the sailors on board their sister ships likely as befuddled and uncomprehending as they themselves were.

Several long moments passed as murmurs of confusion began to circulate before another voice came from the bow of the longship.

"Land!" Cried out a gruff voice peering over the edge of the vessel. "Land lads! Dead ahead!"

Brimir blinked, as the distinct cries of seagulls made themselves heard alongside the sound gentle waves lapping up against the hull of their ship. Feeling his heart attempt to leap from his chest, he was quickly leaning over the bow of the colony ship himself, and confirming with his own eyes the sight before them.

In the distance, a distinct irregularly protruding line of green resting atop the ever-shifting waves of blue.

They'd made it.

Heavy footfalls approached from behind, and a large hand was settled on Brimir's shoulder.

"I told you lad," Andreas stated, his voice a sigh of relief. "The Allfather watches over us and guides us evermore-"

Andreas stopped, and both he and Brimir's brows knitted in uncomprehending surprise and confusion for a moment as he processed the sight far ahead of them, of something great moving above distant trees, like a bird of unparalleled size. A creature, right out of the myths of old.

Andreas spoke up first. "Was that a bloody fucking _dragon?"_

* * *

Louise blinked. Taking a deep breath and remaining still as she gazed into the wooden ceiling above. She'd been having recurring dreams of the Founder Brimir long enough to have gotten used to to strange sensation of waking from one by then and knew it would be best to remain still and allow her heart the chance to calm itself.

Their arrival in Halkegenia. That had to have been what she'd seen. Brimir and his people sailing for the paradise of Vinland, only to be taken from Midgard, and instead sent to another plane entirely… to Alfheim.

Just like every other dream, it felt real. So real that the sensation of salt water clinging to her flesh seemed to linger on her nerves, the smells of the endless ocean, the motions of a water-borne sailing vessel upon rolling waves beneath her…

The dreams didn't match up with the history taught by scholars and the church. The broad strokes were correct, the storm which was a disguised portal- the world bridge whose name was forgotten to history, the fleet sailing on primitive ships bordered with archaic wooden round shields. The war with the Varyag, first contact with the Dwarves and Elves, the unfaltering presence of the hero André at Brimir's right side (his name being wrong in the dreams aside), the founding of Tristain, named in honour of the Founder's late father in Valhalla…

The lone pale moon hanging high in the skies of Midgard, casting a dim white glow upon the earth below.

The tiny blonde sat up in her rented bed, allowing the sheet to fall free from her chest as she stared blankly across the room at nothing in particular.

The thoughts Brimir had… he'd pondered the 'Christian' faith frequently, but in an uncertain, almost _fearful_ manner, as if doing so was outright _heretical_. Though the name was lost to history, Louise recognized aspects of it which had been absorbed into the worship of the old gods, whose own names were lost to time.

She didn't understand. Tolerance of other religions was one of the Founder's tenants of the Aesirvaniric faith, and always had been… was this not the case before Brimir had ascended?

Shaking her head, Louise did her best to dismiss the thoughts the dream had once again sparked. They were just dreams, they did not match up with what she was taught of the Founding Era since the day she was born, and therefore were false. The druids of the Halkegenian heartlands and priests of the southern lands of Gallia and Romalia would not lie about the history of the Founder, of their honoured past.

She would do well to not dwell on such foolish fantasies.

Completely throwing the sheets off of her form as she stepped out of bed, Louise stretched, and frowned once her waking grogginess kicked in the moment she was standing, as per usual. She wished she could be as half as chipper as her elder sister Cattleya was in the early morning, but alas…

She went about the process of dressing herself, grimacing as once more, it became clear that she was somehow putting on weight if the newfound tightness of her underclothes were any indication.

Once that was done, she left her room to wake up Jophiel so they could get their shopping done and head back to the academy.

* * *

Stepping out of the inn with Louise in tow, Jophiel took a moment to yawn and stretch again before heading off for the market and blacksmiths guild.

Jessica had drilled him hard for information once she had him trapped on that barstool well into the night. On himself, Earth, what he did at the academy…

Surprisingly, she'd thus far shown the most interest in him out of anyone, actually asking questions and stuff. Siesta and Louise always seemed content to not poke him too much in that regard, and Kirche… didn't really interact with him much outside of shamelessly hitting on him and occasionally poking at Louise.

It felt a little odd, to be interrogated like that after everyone else just seemed content to let things lay, but it wasn't entirely unwelcome either. Jessica seemed like a fairly nice, and surprisingly intelligent girl. Turned out she did a lot of the heavy lifting in regards to actually running the inn, despite her father being the actual owner.

She really seemed to have a good head on her shoulders, and their apparently slow business was more to do economic difficulties than any incompetence on her or her father's part. Evidently, all's they'd need to really make things start booming would be a decent cash influx, then they'd be able to go all the way with their plans to make things work.

How fortuitous that Jophiel had just come into a large sum of the local currency, and was forward-thinking enough to know that he'd need a way to have a safe income.

Of course, he was going to think it over before throwing fistfuls of gold at the inn, but it seemed to be a potentially smart investment. Especially after Siesta mentioned that her family was in need of a steady income of their own.

Shaking his head, Jophiel noted that he had other things to tend to at that moment. Namely, shopping.

"So, where to first?" He asked the fun-sized blonde that was doing her best to retain her noble airs despite clearly not being a morning person.

"Mm," she grumbled under her breath. "Tailor. Underclothes getting too tight…"

Jophiel nodded. Louise was pretty clearly not putting on extra weight, and he'd in fact wager that her body fat ratio was pretty well ideal for someone of her size. More likely was that she was still growing, given that she was a little below average height-wise right then and there.

Either way, he could do with having some new clothes tailored for him as well, given that he'd only been teleported over with a pair of jeans, socks, a t-shirt, a dress shirt, a jacket, and a rain cloak. Switching between his Earthly ensemble and a spare oversized Academy uniform that'd been specifically made for one 'freakishly big' student that no longer attended the school every few days was getting a bit old.

"Let's get going then," Jophiel motioned down the street.

* * *

"What?" Jophiel asked as Louise just _stared_ at him for a few moments after they'd stepped out of the tailor's shop.

"...I suppose I shouldn't be surprised, given how spartan the rest of your clothes are, save for that art-bearing undershirt," the tiny nordic girl began. "However, it's somewhat odd how you made a point to request no adornments on your shirts or trousers."

Jophiel raised an eyebrow at her. "You weren't exactly making an effort to peacock yourself out there, y'know."

Louise's eyebrows scrunched up in confusion. "Peacock?"

He sighed. "A very garishly colourful bird with tail feathers that look ridiculously over-decorated."

"...Oh," she replied. "Well, regardless, my mother taught me that needless self-decoration is for fops and defenseless wallflowers that have to rely upon others for protection," the girl proudly replied. "I am not some dress-wearing weakling incapable of fending for myself and afraid of getting my clothes marred by dirt! My mother taught me how to use a sword, I need nobody but myself for defense!"

She paused.

"...Though considering it, it's entirely reasonable to assume the same is true of you…" She sighed. "My apologies, it's just rare to meet fellow young nobles in the academy that aren't pampered puddles of pudding, so I've come to expect weakness out of my peers. A ridiculous notion in your regard, given that you own a sword of your own." She finished while motioning towards the Hellion on his hip.

"Uh, no harm, no foul," Jophiel waved her concern off. "No offense taken… however, you say you're a trained swordsman? I haven't seen a blade in your possession yet."

Louise grimaced very visibly at that. "...I keep forgetting to buy one for myself every time I come to the city," she admitted, her cheeks gaining a hint of pink to them.

Well, that would explain it.

"Hm… well, fortune seems to favour us," the significantly larger man declared. "Unless I'm mistaken, that'll be a weapon shop, correct?"

Louise glanced at the building in question, which was highlighted by a hanging wooden sword in the style of a stubby gladius-like sword. "It would seem so…"

"Well, let's pop in before we head off to do the rest of our shopping. Before you forget again, yeah?" He lightly teased.

She made a point of giving Jophiel the stink eye at the light prodding, but ultimately sighed. "Very well. Better late than never, I suppose…"

At that, the pair proceeded into the small building.

* * *

"Well that was a waste of time," Louise groused.

"Indeed," Jophiel agreed as they left the tiny building.

Despite being on a fairly nice street, that store had been on the… _munitions_ side of weapons grade. Utterly unfit for a noble. There had also been absolutely nothing of real value in the place. There was a single blade that looked decently maintained, and it had been an obvious wall-hanger that Louise hadn't even acknowledged.

He'd also noted that aside from a few small iron knives, everything seemed to be made of various kinds of bronze, and didn't get any bigger than a Roman gladius.

From what he'd seen since his summoning, Jophiel was seriously starting to wonder if the Halkegenians had access to steel at all.

He continued as the pair started making their way down the bustling, well-kept street. "Maybe we should just go to the Smith's guild and have something custom-ordered for you while I place an order for some armour, or something."

"Armour?" The noble girl piped up. "What would you need armour for?"

The fake noble quirked an eyebrow at her. "I'm your 'guardian' familiar, aren't I? I'd assume that means I'm expected to defend you should you be threatened by something."

She blinked, then shrugged. "Bandits are all but unheard of between the academy and city, and my family lands are renowned for being free of crime… though you have a point."

"Better safe than sorry," Jophiel asserted with his own shrug. "But that aside, the sword idea?"

"Mm…" The girl considered it for a moment before replying. "I suppose I should. My skills have certainly rusted since I left home, and the longer I put off the means to train them, the worse they'll dull."

She nodded once in affirmation.

"Right. We should see about getting training blades as well, as I'll probably need your help shaping myself back up to being fighting fit."

Jophiel turned to her, a glint of mild confusion in his eyes. " _My_ help? I was under the impression that _you_ were going to be teaching _me_."

She cocked an eyebrow at him as they continued to move for the smith's guild. "Wait, what? Aren't you a trained swordsman?" She asked, motioning towards the blade on his hip.

Jophiel nervously chuckled at that. "Oh, uh, aha ha, y'see, about that…"

"...Please don't tell me that you're one of those nobles that carries around a weapon they don't actually know how to use," Louise intoned at him through heavily lidded eyes.

"Look, we haven't seriously used swords in warfare for _hundreds_ of years. I'm kind of weird for even owning one among my peers. It's kind of like if you owned a stone-tipped club," he defensively asserted in turn.

Louise's brow scrunched up in confusion again at that. "Your people don't use swords…? But... yours is so _masterfully_ made. How can swords be _obsolete_ where you come from?"

"Because there's a market for collecting them," Jophiel asserted. "It's really as simple as that."

Louise was giving him a dubious sideways look, then sighed and shook her head. "It would have been nice had you told me that _before_ we went out travelling. What if we'd had gotten into a fight? I'd have assumed you'd have known what you were doing with the way you casually wear that thing around like it's second nature."

"...Fair point," the canuck replied. "Sorry, the thought never really crossed my mind…"

"Whatever, c'mon, we've still got things to get done before we have to return to the academy," the diminutive blonde asserted while picking up her pace. "Plus, we have to put aside time to _train_ you from now on at that." She shook her head in annoyance. "Honestly, eight days you've been here, just wasting time every day wandering around the academy when you could've been learning how to defend yourself drilling with the guards…"

Jophiel grimaced in response. "Okay, you're right, but considering that bandits and highwaymen are all but unheard of in Canada. Not to mention that war hasn't come to our borders in hundreds of years, I'd think that learning how to kill people not being my first instinct upon being summoned is pretty reasonable."

Louise stopped and spun around to face him, her eyes wide with shock. "Bandits aren't… how can such vultures be _unheard of_ in your home nation?"

* * *

"Canada sounds… peaceful," Louise said as the pair neared the Smith's quarter.

"It is," Jophiel replied, his mood having turned a little south after having made the mistake of telling his apparent ward of the homeland he'd likely never see again and had been trying to avoid thinking about.

"I can understand why you'd be comparatively inadequately trained in the art of war, considering that, though Halkegenia is a good deal less safe than your nation, Jophiel. Gods willing, we will never find ourselves in need of such skills, but our constabularies are nowhere near as awe-inspiringly able as yours are." Louise asserted.

Taking a deep breath, Jophiel nodded once. "I know."

Louise evidently felt little need to press the issue beyond that, seemingly satisfied with his response as they stepped into the area the metalsmith's guild claimed for their own.

Looking around, it was needless to say, a loud little street, what with the sound hammers pounding against metal, quenching tanks screeching as hot iron was dunked in cool water, and experienced metal workers barking orders to their subordinates and apprentices left, right, and centre.

And _whoo boy_ , was the smell something else.

"Stay away from the mithril forges," Louise spoke up from the side, her nose scrunched up at the smell of sweat wafting through the area. "They're extremely well-ventilated with wind magic, of course, but it's best to just not risk being lamed by the white-gold affliction."

Jophiel took a few moments to process that.

"Wait," he began, turning to the girl. "Did you just say ' _mithril_?' And what was that about an affliction?"

Louise quirked an eyebrow at him as she responded. "Yes, I said mithril. It is superior to common bronze and iron for a number of reasons, how well it takes to durability-strengthening enhancements being chief among them. Though it produces foul air which burns one's skin, lungs, and eyes, and makes those that breathe it weak and feeble. As such it requires constant application of wind magic to force the cursed air to scatter into the open winds above where it is harmless to people."

She glanced down at the sword on Jophiel's hip.

"...Do your people not work mithril? I've noticed that your blade seems to be forged of iron, but-"

"Steel," Jophiel interjected.

She blinked at him. "What?"

"Steel," Jophiel continued. "My Hellion is made from steel, not iron."

Louise looked confused herself now. "...Steel?" She asked.

 _Oh God, they really don't have fucking **steel** ,_ Jophiel thought as he blinked owlishly at the girl.

"...Your people don't have _steel_?" He asked dubiously.

"...Your people don't have _mithril_?" She asked dubiously.

The pair stared at each other for a few moments before shaking their heads in near-perfect unison.

"We've still got things to do, you can tell me later," the blonde declared.

"Indeed," the canuck agreed as the pair moved for the swordsmith.

* * *

"...It will suffice," Louise stated once she had given her new, premade leaf-bladed, nordic-decorated mithril short sword a few experimental test swings and thrusts. She definitely had a distinctly practised form that Jophiel recognized as that of a trained swordsman even from the few movements she made with the blade in hand.

Jophiel nodded and turned to the swordsmith's partner-in-crime, the armourer. "So, how long do you estimate it'll take for my armour to be completed?"

"Ain't got many contracts lined up at the moment, so for an iron chain shirt with mithril plates and a helmet of your size, no decoration? Three, mayhaps four weeks at the most with most of the workshop able to help, sir, plus a day or so enchant it for durability and all-day wear after all's said and done," the short but burly moustached man asserted. "We'll have a messenger come a-runnin' to let 'ye know when it's good to pick up."

"That will do," Louise stated.

Jophiel nodded. "Fantastic… I think we're done here, Louise?"

She nodded in affirmation. "Yes, I think we can move onto general goods and depart back to the academy."

At that, she sheathed her sword, and turned to leave.

Hesitating only to give the smiths an acknowledging nod, he quickly fell into step beside the girl.

* * *

Jessica blinked at him, still seeming to be struggling to process what she was hearing. "But…" she began, "why would a noble be interested in the paltry income of co-owning an inn?"

"I have my reasons," Jophiel asserted, having already discussed the idea with Louise on the way back once they'd finished their more general shopping. "So, are you interested in letting me purchase a share of the inn's ownership, or no?"

Jessica, again, blinked. "...But the kind of money you're offering-"

"Yes," Louise interjected tersely, clearing getting tired of the commoner's disbelief. "Or no?"

The ravenette was anxiously playing with her long hair, _clearly_ not having expected Jophiel to return with an offer to dump a bunch of gold on their heads in exchange for a cut of all future profits.

"Well, being able to say that the business is owned by a noble _would_ be quite the boon…" She half-mumbled to herself before shutting her eyes and taking a deep breath. "Yes," she eventually replied. "Yes, I agree to your offer, Lord Pholus."

In response, Jophiel handed her the… local equivalent of a cheque. "I suppose we should get the paperwork sorted out sooner rather than later, yes?" He asked with a pleased smile.

* * *

"I'm a bit leery about how we didn't speak to that girl's father about your sudden partnership with them…" Louise stated as the pair were moving back towards the academy on Sleipnir's back with Cu the packhound ambling along behind them.

"She said that he'll be okay with it, don't worry about it."

"If you say so…" She sighed back at him. "Regardless, we should be back at the Academy by late evening. There won't be time to do much other than eat and bathe before bedtime. We'll start training tomorrow morning, okay?"

Jophiel nodded. "Understood."

At that, Louise seemed content, and Jophiel settled in for another quiet trip across the country-

"Tell me more of your homeland," she suddenly spoke up, breaking his train of thought. "I want to know more about this far-off nation of yours."

 _Okay, guess I'll be settling in for an outward-bound exposition dump instead,_ Jophiel internally sighed as he prepared his vocal chords for the ordeal they were about to suffer.

* * *

"Wait," Louise replied, twisting around to face Jophiel once her mighty doggo's saddle was removed. " _The_ moon?"

"Yes," Jophiel said. "We've been to _the_ moon, Louise," he declared, doubting she'd believe him, but still feeling like he was on a roll with stretching her suspension of disbelief after telling her all about the internet, telephones, trains, and all sorts of other assorted Earth technologies.

She blinked quite owlishly at him, her head cocked slightly to the side before… _something_ seemed to click in her eyes, and she turned her head, displaying the slightest hint of uncertainty before speaking up. "...The lonely moon, shining white down upon all of creation, its face marred by great seas of grey, small, but serene in the night sky of the cradle of humanity...?"

The canuck wasn't sure why she was getting so weirdly… poetic about it all of a sudden. "...Yes? That is what it looks like-"

It was only then that Jophiel remembered that Alfheim had _two_ moons which were red and _blue_.

...And that Louise shouldn't have known what Luna looked like.

"Wait, I mean- that is- how do you-" he replied, stammering as he tried to find a way to catch himself in multiple different directions at once.

Louise, for her part, was silent and still, staring up at Jophiel with an expression he couldn't read as he fought to regain his composure.

She spoke up again before he did. "...I am going to bathe and retire to my room for the night. Do as you will for the rest of the evening, Jophiel."

At that, Louise turned and started moving for the bath house, leaving the him alone with Sleipnir and Cu as the servant Louise had sent to gather more hands to deliver their stuff to their rooms still hadn't returned.

He turned to the great beasts, and reached up to scratch either dire woofer's immense chin with both of his hands as he sighed.

"This shit just gets weirder and weirder, doesn't it fellas?" He asked the two hounds, both of whom seemed to be relishing in the unexpected chin scratch they were receiving as their mighty tails buffeted the air behind them nearly hard enough to achieve liftoff.


	9. What Lies Unseen

**Pre-Story Notes** :  
 _Sorry for the long wait, been busy with other projects. I'll try to push out the next chapter faster than this one._

* * *

 **Chapter 09 - What Lies Unseen**

* * *

"Ey, Siesta!" Jophiel began as he approached the pretty maid, who was taking a load off sitting on one of the finely engraved benches which rested within the Academy's picturesque apple grove. "I was just looking for you."

The dark-haired girl lit up for but a moment at his newly-announced presence, but quickly restrained herself as she stood from her seat to bow, as was proper for one of her status-

"Oy, I already told you to cut that out when it's just the two of us, didn't I?" He lightheartedly chastised with a disarming smile.

Indeed, true as that may be, it was difficult to break such an important habit even for a strange foreign noble. "I apologize, milord. I-"

"Close your eyes," he interjected.

The girl blinked in surprise at the sudden command, looking up in perplexion at the large, powerfully built man that had come to a stop within arm's reach of her.

"I'm sorry?" She squeaked.

"Your eyes," he reiterated with a smile which seemed… anticipatory. "Close them."

Immediately, she felt somewhat unnerved as she was filled with uncertainty. The Gramont boy, he was notorious for cornering maids that took his fancy, and giving them much the same command so that he may get close in an… unsettling attempt at seduction.

Jophiel had not struck her as the type to engage in such shameless displays to those below his station, though considering his behaviour when he was alone with her…

"Well?" He spoke up again expectantly. "You gonna close your eyes, or what?"

She couldn't _detect_ any annoyance in his voice, but…

She took a breath, dispelling such thoughts from her mind. He was a noble. A large, strong one with connections to an extremely powerful local family. Had he wanted to take advantage of her while they were alone, he'd have had ample opportunity to so dozens of times previously, and he'd demonstrated that he wasn't one to abuse his authority regardless.

She'd only known him a short time, but already Jophiel had proven himself a trustworthy noble if ever she'd met one.

With only some trepidation, the common Tristanian girl obeyed his will, closing her eyes and somewhat anxiously crossing her hands in front of her.

Any building concerns of her helplessness before the man were momentarily magnified when she felt the brush of warm flesh against her neck, then grossly exacerbated when she felt the cold chill of metal accompanying it. Her eyes jolted open as she took a fearful breath…

And following a minute click, he'd backed off with that same ever-present calming smile present on his alien features. "There, looks even better when you're wearing it… what do you think?" He asked, a mote of… apprehension in his voice?

Siesta once again found herself blinking rather owlishly at him. A moment passed before she reflexively reached up to touch at her neck, where she'd felt his hands graze her skin. There, she found an unfamiliar object which seemed to have come to a rest around the collar of her dress. Something metallic…

A… necklace?

"Took me a while to find decent cordage that complimented the colour, but I'd say it came out pretty well all things considered," Jophiel said with a nod.

Taking the loose jewelry around her neck and lifting it into view, the maid got a good look at it.

It seemed to be a collection of perfectly formed flattened pewter chains artfully tied together by a silvery string. It was simple, but rather pretty in its own right regardless.

And he'd suggested that he'd made it himself…?

Siesta felt a deep swelling in her chest. She wasn't sure of his reasoning, but… had she just been gifted a fine piece of hand-made jewelry by a nobleman?

No, of course not, what an absurd notion. Surely he was just using her to see how well it fit around the neck of a girl for practice-

"I don't really give gifts often, so I hope you like it, Siesta," Jophiel spoke up again with a rub of the back of his neck, breaking the girl's train of thought and causing her eyes to widen considerably. It truly was a gift meant for her.

She wasn't sure what to think of that.

"I… it is beautiful, milord," she began uncertainty. "I… I am undeserving of such a fine gift, even pewter is too precious a metal for one as lowly as I-"

"Aluminium," he cut her off.

She stopped dead, her breath catching in her throat as her eyes again widened more than she thought was possible. "W-what…?" She managed with an airy voice.

"The tabs aren't pewter," he elucidated calmly. "They're aluminium."

Siesta's heart began to pound a mile a minute. Aluminium… among the most precious of precious metals, fit for the use of royalty. For her? A common maid?

Was he lying? He had to be, no one in their right mind would waste such a precious material on some random commoner… but the sincere look in his eyes, the gentle, easy going smile on his lips…

He was telling the truth. He'd just bestowed on her a necklace Princess Henrietta would fawn over.

"I-I," she began, utterly flabbergasted and unsure of what to say. "Y-y-you… I-I-"

Jophiel's eyebrows shot up as he seemed to remember something, followed by him reaching into his jacket pocket. "Ah, and I can't forget this…"

He reached out, gently took a hold of her hand, a move which threatened to make her poor little heart _explode_ at that point, and placed a small velvety bag in it. It felt heavy, clearly filled with something.

"There should be more than enough gold there to get your family out of financial trouble, plus maybe get some nice things on top of that, I think," he asserted as he released his soft grasp on her hand.

Her skepticism momentarily flared up again, but noting the utterly sincere look in his eyes… she immediately opened the sack, and peered inside.

There were no words to adequately convey the state of Siesta's shock right then and there.

What should she say? What _could_ she say? Such generosity, such kindness was just… unprecedented. Being allowed to consume the a leftover master chef-made pastry was previously the kindest personal gift she'd been granted by a noble on last year's Birthday of the Founder…

This was just, inconceivable. Beyond belief, _impossible_. She was dreaming, she _had_ to be.

Or… he expected _something_ in return-

"Well, I just wanted to give you those before I turned in for the night," Jophiel began, breaking her train of thought. "I ought to head to bed now, it's getting pretty late after all."

He was already backing off, moving away from her…

She was dumbstruck, stupefied. He, a nobleman wouldn't just _give away_ such wealth without expecting anything in return. Did he… Oh no.

"M-milord!" She called out, her heart having fallen to the pit of her stomach, immediately understanding the situation. "I-I, my family could never pay you back this loan! We are only vineyard workers and-"

"Eh?" He cut her off with a strange, distinctive cry of confusion as his brows knitted and he cocked an eyebrow at her. "The translation spell must be crapping itself; gift! For you! No return, you just be happy!" he declared back, making halting motions towards her.

She stopped dead in her tracks, her mouth hanging open like a dead fish's.

It made no sense, defied all reason, almost suggested insanity…

He was just giving these treasures to her.

 _To make her happy_.

If he… if he were grooming her to be a mistress, she could understand showing her with gifts, jewels and beauty products. No noble wanted a bed warmer to be plain and undecorated, as even they were another potential avenue to flaunt their wealth…

But he didn't seem to have any such intentions for her, however.

"The necklace is yours," He declared while making a tugging motion at his neck, seeming to think the translation spell was malfunctioning, pointing towards her as he did so. "You deserve it for working so hard."

She couldn't process what was happening.

He was smiling back at her disarmingly, clearly doing his best to calm her as he continued to loose reassurances at her.

Such a kind, generous, caring man, showing no obvious intentions of romantic overtures towards her.

"They're just presents, Siesta, understand?" He asked, appearing as the very picture of kindness.

Eventually, with a minute nod, she replied. "...I understand."

"Good, good," he nodded as he started backing off again, waving as he did so. "Now seriously, I'm tired from riding back from the city. Talk to you tomorrow, 'kay? Later, Siesta!"

With that, he finally turned on his heel and started making his way back to the main building in earnest.

Watching him disappear into the moonlit night with long, dignified strides as befitting one of his station, dozens of emotions Siesta was unused to danced to and fro in her bosom, making her breath shallow and her head light.

He was tall, broad shouldered, wide chested and just powerfully built in general… like an orc. The very opposite of the ideal slight male form. And yet… to call him unattractive would be doing him a great injustice, an outright lie.

He didn't _seem_ to have any romantic intentions toward her, she'd noticed…

Resting a hand over her frantically beating heart, she concluded with a resolute nod, that perhaps she should start working to amend that.

* * *

"Not sight nor sound of her in the entire academy, sir. Not even the men's familiars have been able to find a single trace on the school grounds," the stern-faced captain of the guard informed the wizened academy headmaster who leaned back heavily in his chair, allowing himself to sag into it with a deep sigh.

There was little denying it now, as much as Osmand hated to admit it. Miss Longueville was missing, gone without a trace into the woods surrounding the exterior of the fortress walls.

She'd informed the guardsmen at the main entrance that she was leaving for a walk and would return before evening. Three days ago.

"Damn it all," he grumbled as he stood from his seat and walked to the window overlooking the moonlit school courtyard with far more pep than one might expect of a man of his age. "She is a trained mage, and would be easily able to fight off common wildlife, and find her way back via levitating herself into the sky to find the tower on the horizon. Should she have wandered in the wrong direction…"

Normally, he'd be spending the afternoon smoking from his pipe, allowing the 'hashish' as his contact called it to soothe his old aches and calm his mind… but he needed a sharp wit right then, else disaster might claim a life, if it hadn't done so already.

"Orcs, or bandits, it must be..." Osmand proposed aloud as he stroked his beard and intensely stared outside at nothing in particular.

"Much as I hate to say it, sir, Miss Longueville is a beautiful woman. Bandits would keep her alive with intention to… _use_ her, which would mean we'd have a chance to find and rescue her. Orcs… would have already stripped her bones clean by now," the captain gravely asserted as he adjusted his cape, finding himself subconsciously readying himself to draw his wand at the mere mention of the horrid furred monsters. "We'd need to mobilize a sizable force of men to scour the countryside in any timely manner, and to fight whatever might have taken her."

"Especially considering the bandits would need to have mages in their numbers to have captured her…" Osmand growed, glowering in the distance as terrible thoughts of his secretary being abused surfaced in his mind. "We must be swift, both for Matilda's sake, and to ensure whatever has her will not claim any other innocents. We cannot waste time sending for aid from the Queen's regulars, so I will accompany a search party in locating her."

To say that the Headmaster's square magic would even the odds against any potential threats would be an understatement.

"Understood sir," the captain nodded stiffly. "Shall we request aid from the Chevalier as well?"

"Yes," he immediately nodded in affirmation. "Miss Tabitha's dragon and triangle magic would be a significant boon against hostile mages or a warband, not to mention her ability to quickly cover ground."

Osmand internally cursed himself for having sent Stephen to the city to deal with that little perverted student's parents the night previous. Of all the representatives he had to send, it was the square-class that would be capable of handling an entire orcish tribe on his own…

"Envigor your men and prepare to depart immediately," he ordered resolutely. "We will search by flarelight and the eyes of the nocturnal familiars. With luck, we will find her by morning."

The elder mage finally turned to face the crisply-dressed captain.

"Form up in the courtyard. Dismissed, Keyes."

"Sir," Captain Keyes respectfully bowed before about-facing and quickly marching out of the room and down the spiral staircase to ground level, intent on gathering his men as quickly as possible.

Osmand grimaced as he reached up to the display on his wall and took a hold of his warstaff, a blade-tipped weapon which had served him well in his youth as an adventurer. He'd really rather not assume the worst, but there was no other reasonable explanation for his secretary's disappearance into the woods. The region had been cleared of dangerous magical beasts decades ago, and he _knew_ that she was capable of navigation cantrips…

There were no other options than to assume her life was in danger. And old Osmand wasn't about to let a pretty young woman be torn from this mortal coil well before her time.

* * *

A scant thirty minutes later, and a sizeable force departed from the fortress walls and dispersed into the surrounding wilderness. Far, far more than had been expected… rather _infuriatingly_.

Expertly camouflaged in the undergrowth, Matilda bit the nail of her thumb angrily, doing her best to keep herself from vocalizing her growing frustration and giving away her presence until the men cleared the area entirely, as… loathe as she was to complete it, she had a job to do.

She'd been hoping that after spending a few unexplained days away from the academy that Colbert, that foolish teacher would alert the headmaster of her nefarious intentions, and he would then send constables after her, thus giving her an excuse to abandon her mission.

As it was, however...

She didn't want to go ahead with it. To break into the Vault and steal the Staff of Destruction; the Greater Staff, to be specific, but… when one's family is threatened by mysterious villains with proof that they have ready access to their unsuspecting hostages, they are left with little other choice than to capitulate and obey.

She had no way of getting back to Albion, let alone Westwood quickly enough to guarantee that she'd reach the orphanage before those dastardly revolutionaries did, and so she had no choice but to at least… _look like_ she was attempting to fulfill their demands.

Surely, they couldn't fault her for failing when all odds were against her, right?

But no, she'd gone so far as to bait that damned professor's familiar into hunting her messenger pigeon, and in doing so allowing him to 'stumble' upon her 'amateurish' letter to her 'employers.'

But, in a _stunning_ display of bumbling foolishness she'd not thought possible, he _sent the damned letter back on its way!_ Presumably without having read it beforehand, given that there was no indication that he'd reported the presence of a well-known and reviled master thief in the academy.

Of course, that lead to her resorting to other methods of tipping her hand to the seemingly senile bastard that by all appearances just didn't take, ultimately culminating in her watching the academy become all but empty of guards leaving the area, in search of her secretary persona if her eavesdropping on said men was any indication…

Overall, to say that she'd _royally fucked_ her plans would be an understatement. They were watching her, _somehow_ , she knew that. With things going the way they were… it was looking like she'd have little other choice but to go through with trying to break into the Vault.

Luckily, it seemed that, if nothing else, getting inside the Vault would be impossible. She'd mined enough information from Osmand and Colbert both to know that unlocking the door without Osmand's aid wasn't possible, and physical force could not damage the exterior or interior walls of the fortress due to the sheer power of the enchantments cast on it.

That meant that she could create a siege golem, a great stone automaton which towered at twenty metres high to uselessly hammer at the surrounding walls long enough to make it look like she'd sincerely _tried_ , and therefore get out of giving such a terrible weapon to such _monsters_ as those blackmailing her.

She was sure to draw fire from whatever guards remained within the academy's walls, but she could _probably_ escape the ensuing hostilities and assert that she couldn't accomplish her given objective.

That was what really mattered, after all. That she at least didn't look like she was defying them. They couldn't fault her for being incapable of completing an impossible task and would leave Tiffania and the children alone, seeing little point in further dealings with an incompetent thief.

They'd just leave them alone, and they'd be deprived of a dangerous weapon, and that would be the end of it…

...Right?

Shaking her head, Matilda drew her want once she was sure the majority of the guards were gone, and that she wouldn't be cornered and captured outright. Siege golems had to be programmed with an artificial intelligence to act without being actively puppeteered, and…

Well, she'd never learned how to alter said programming on the fly, so the golem would stick to siege logic and attempt to destroy any and all structures in sight and fight off hostiles, but… it wasn't going to get past the outer wall, so that was hardly a major concern, right? The enchantments making the structures so indomitable weren't about to suddenly fail or anything, so she didn't need to worry about it.

The golem would bash its stony arms uselessly against the side of the fortress walls, and once she met armed resistance, Matilda would flee and the golem would burn through its magical charge trying to break through. Nobody would be hurt, and she couldn't be accused of deliberately screwing up the mission.

Yes, the plan would work. After this, she'd depart back to Albion, collect Tiffa and the children and relocate them somewhere safe, and they'd all move on, continuing to live their lives in peace.

The guards were gone by then, and so Matilda stepped out from the shadows and withdrew from her shoulder bag her great golem creation reagents. She'd normally not need them at all, given that being a square-class made her capable of creating regular-sized golems through sheer willpower alone, but this... was a step above the common man-sized golem.

Beginning to draw out the creation glyphs with powdered chalk, Matilda went about the golem ritual, on a scale most Earth mages could only dream of. It would take her the entire night, well into the morning to complete…

But after that, she'd be free from the machinations of those Neo Crusader bastards, her family would be safe, and Fouquet the Decaying Earth could finally be put to rest as Matilda Longueville moved on with her life.


	10. Awakening

**Pre-Story Notes** :

 _I really need to put more time aside to work on this story, damn it..._

* * *

 **Chapter 10 - Awakening**

* * *

Stepping out of his room rather early compared to usual with a stretch, Jophiel hadn't been expecting to be roughly shoved back into said room by a familiar little blonde first thing in the morning.

Jophiel blinked as his ward shut the door behind her, a little harder than was strictly necessary. "W-whoa, Louise? What's-"

"I have to tell someone. I have to talk to someone about this," the scion of the le Blanc family began, almost muttering entirely to herself. "I can't just keep this bottled up, it's getting to me, I need to-"

Jophiel reached out and took a hold of the girl's shoulders, which seemed to break her out of whatever trance she'd been caught in. "Louise, calm down, I'm here, you can talk to me, right?"

She blinked up her him, her breath coming short and fast. "...R-right…" She took a breath and paused for a moment.

"Okay, so what is it, Louise? What's got you so worked up?" He asked, giving her shoulders a reassuring squeeze before letting go.

After a beat, she made her way to the desk the academy had provided for every room, pulling the chair out and seating herself with another deep breath.

Clearly, this was bothering her significantly, whatever it was.

Jophiel moved to the wall next to the desk, and leaned against it, crossing his arms as he did so to wait for her to work up the will to spill the beans.

A good minute passed with a few false starts before she seemed to find said will.

"...I'm only coming to you with this because… you are not of Halkegenia, and you are unlikely to take these words as the… _blasphemy_ any good Aesirvanirist would." She began shakily, her entire body going as tense as a suspension bridge cable as she did so.

Jophiel nodded seriously, choosing to keep his mouth shut in regards to as what specifically 'Aesirvanir' meant. Context made it pretty clear that was the name of their religion, at any rate.

"I…" She exhaled, clearly finding it very difficult to let the words out. "I've been having dreams- no, _visions_ ever since I summoned you. Visions of… of the Founder Brimir, of the war against the Varyag. Of his great Familiars… of Void magic."

...He probably should have been taken aback or something, but… "Void magic?" He asked.

Louise looked up at him emotionlessly for a moment, then facepalmed with a small groan. "I still haven't told you… gods, how negligent a master can I be…" Jophiel was about to reassure her otherwise when she cut him off. "Void is the magic of the Founder Brimir. It exists outside of the elemental paradigm which contains Earth, Water, Wind, and Fire magic. Void relates to the manipulation of time and space, altering the very fabric of reality, the perfect commune with the Aesirvanir and symbol of a pure, holy heart."

She took a breath,

"The Aesirvanir are the Gods. Presided over by the Allfather, they grant us our-"

"Allfather?" Jophiel cut in, recognizing the term immediately. "You mean Odin?"

Louise looked annoyed initially, then her expression became unreadable at his question and she was silent. Regarding him wordlessly for a moment and speaking up just as he began to think he'd pissed her off.

"...Tell me of this 'Odin,'" she said.

Jophiel was mildly surprised, then figured 'Allfather' must have been a translation mix-up if she didn't recognize the proper name of the Norse king of the gods.

But still, she wanted to know, and so he leaned back and shut his eyes as he recalled what he could off the top of his head. "The Allfather Odin is the one-eyed god, creator of all things, wielder of the spear Gungnir. He rules from Asgard, the realm of the gods upon a branch of Yggdrasil, the world tree which bears all the worlds of creation, including the world of man, Midgard; the world of elves, Alfheim; and the world of the honoured dead, Valhalla."

Jophiel took a breath and finished.

"That's what I can recall off the top of my head, at any rate. Norse mythology is-" when he opened his eyes he was cut off by the open-mouthed stare Louise was giving him.

Eventually, her mouth slowly closed as she somehow went even stiffer than before, her eyes as wide as saucers as she regarded Jophiel with open shock.

"...You're a Markey…" She eventually breathed, voice dripping with awe.

He cocked an eyebrow at her, then shook his head when he recalled that they were going off-topic. "Okay, okay, back to the point. Something is bothering you, what is it?"

She remained still for a moment before finally nodding and continuing on, seeming to have to _tear_ her eyes from his visage. "I- yes, well… to get to the point… I've been having visions of the Founder himself casting Void magic, and these dreams feel _real_. As real as this conversation we are having right now. I can feel the cold wind biting my rain-soaked flesh, mud soaking through my heavy boots, the screams of the debased dead piercing my ears…"

She took a shaky breath as if calming and disconnecting herself from a traumatic memory.

"I was the Founder himself in those visions. And when I woke from them, for a few fleeting moments… I was still him before I... returned to myself. I was casting Void magic. I understood the antediluvian words, the eldritch tones… I… I know how to cast Void magic. I'm _certain_ of it, but…"

She looked up at him, her large violet eyes beginning to shimmer.

"Such claims are _blasphemy_ of the highest order. I might as well be asserting that I am Brimir himself reborn. I… I am afraid, Jophiel…"

The Canadian regarded the girl quietly for a moment. He understood the cultural significance of religion in pre-modern people, how this would basically be like some random noble girl claiming to be Jesus Christ reborn in an age where doing so would, at best, earn said girl scorn from all, and at worst… perhaps even torture.

But Alfheim wasn't Earth. Magic was real there, a fact of daily life. Jophiel himself had arrived in this world by being summoned through dimensions, across space and time-

He stopped. _Space and time_. The things which Void magic presided over…

Taking a breath, Jophiel had one thought playing in his mind which he couldn't dispel. This was a fantasy world, that much was clear. And while attempting to look to fantasy tropes for guidance was a damned foolish thing to do at best, right then and there…

This situation had 'chosen one' written all over it.

"Have you cast any Void spells since learning them?" He asked simply.

"N-n-no!" She asserted as she stood from her seat with a start. "T-to even _attempt_ to do so would be blasphemous in the extreme-"

Jophiel pushed himself off the wall, stepped to the girl and placed his hands firmly on her shoulders again, earning a shuddering gasp from her.

"Louise," he began seriously. "Sitting around, silently worrying and crying about maybes and what-ifs is useless. A waste of your time and everyone else's. Your magic has never worked, right? You have it, you _know_ you do. My presence here is _undeniable_ evidence of that. Maybe the reason it hasn't worked is that you've been trying to call upon the elements when you have an entirely different power compared to your peers."

He smiled gently at the girl.

"After all, the first time you successfully cast a spell, it was one which worked by pulling me here across _time and space_ , no?"

She had looked conflicted until his closing question, at which point her skin lost much of its colour and she started trembling.

"...M-m-mages summon familiars from o-our own world… from regions, both explored and beyond the reach of man. B-but I… b-b-but you… I summoned a Markey, from another realm of creation…"

She took a deep, shuddering breath.

"I called upon you with Void magic…" she reached up and took a hold of his left hand with her dainty fingers, gently removing it from her shoulder and bringing it before her, holding it gently as she stared down upon the runes branded into his flesh. "You… you are one of the Four…" she all but _whimpered_ her next words. "You are the forgotten Shield, the unsung Left Hand of God. The Gandalfr. You are a Void Familiar."

Her grip on his hand became vice-like.

 _"I am a Void Mage._ "

He had no idea what she was talking about, but it didn't take a genius to figure out that these were _very important_ things she was referring to. And he felt his own heart begin to go a mile a minute once she attributed such titles to _him_.

But he'd been in stressful situations before. A lifetime of hardships had taught him how to temper his emotions and control himself unless he was pressed beyond his breaking point. He would remain calm, for himself, and for Louise.

"You _may_ be a Void Mage," he corrected her. "We won't know for certain until you actually try to cast a Void spell-"

"W-w-what!? N-no! I-I can't- I won't-! Y-you don't know what you are suggesting!" She asserted as she attempted to step back away from Jophiel, releasing his hand as she did so.

He retained his grip on her shoulder and pulled her back in, though.

 _"Louise,"_ he began, his tone firm. "Worrying and panicking about what may be nothing at all serves no purpose whatsoever. This can be confirmed or denied with but one action. You casting a Void spell. If it doesn't work, then we'll know your 'visions' were just dreams, and you need not concern yourself with them ever again. If it does work…"

He took a steadying breath before continuing in a much softer voice.

"Then we know that you're special after all. I'll be there, it'll just be the two of us, and if it doesn't work I'll repent with you or whatever else your religion will demand of you for thinking you were blessed by the gods in such a way. I promise, okay?"

She looked more conflicted than Jophiel thought possible, jittering in place, her eyes whipping to and fro as a dozen different emotions waged war across her face, sputtering random words as she was clearly struggling to process everything.

"Louise..." He had an idea and pulled her into a gentle hug which seemed to surprise her into stillness. "You asked me earlier how you could make it up to me, taking me from my home, right?"

She'd gone as stiff as a board, and Jophiel knew that he'd just stuck his thumb in a sore spot, but…

She wordlessly nodded into his chest.

"Try to cast a Void spell for me. That's it. Do that, and I swear upon everything I hold dear, all things my people have ever considered to be sacred, that you will owe me no debt and I will be content."

She was still and silent for a time, breathing into his chest with her arms pulled up to her chest.

"...Truly?" She eventually asked.

"I swear," he asserted as he gave her a reassuring squeeze. "I will judge you for nothing and support you through everything. You have my word."

Eventually, almost imperceptibly, she nodded before bringing her arms out and wrapping them around his waist, hugging him back quite tightly herself.

He continued to hold her for a time after that, figuring that the girl could do with some comforting before they got to business.

* * *

"It's a good thing we got up so early," Jophiel stated as the pair stepped out into the orange-tinted courtyard. "The magelights are still lit up, and there's nobody around to witness this…"

He had a lot of questions about a lot of things, but this took priority over figuring out what a 'Left Hand of God' or 'Markey' was or what that meant for him.

"...Y-yeah…" Louise warily replied as her eyes snapped to the exterior of the main building, looking for any signs of life as she nervously played with her wand.

He placed a hand on her shoulder again. "Okay, come now, there's nobody else out here. If you're gonna try this 'Dispel,' this is the best time for it. The magelight will shut off, the staff will think nothing of it, and we'll know for sure that you're a Void Mage… or that you've been worrying over nothing at all."

She nodded haltingly. "I-I know, I just…" she shook her head. "Okay, okay okay okay, just… just do this here and now, and this will all be over and done with…" she said to herself.

This was really getting to her.

"I'll be right here, don't worry about it, okay?" He declared as he stepped to just in front and to the left of her. "There, target that lamppost. Just get it over and done with, and we'll know for sure either way."

She stared at the magical lamppost, clutching at her wand worryingly for a moment before nodding her head. "Okay, right… okay… here goes nothing," she said as she stepped back into a well-practised spellcasting stance, wand held aloft and pointed towards the post.

Jophiel couldn't help but note how beautifully statuesque Louise looked when she was concentrated and determined such as right then. She'd make an amazing model for an actual statue- or _anything_ for that matter, really. That fierce, piercing gaze was the kind that just _demanded_ attention and would not settle for anything less than the utmost respect.

He couldn't help but wonder if she inherited it from her father or her mother.

"...Okay, I'm going to start now," she said. "This… is going to take a bit, so don't interrupt me, okay?"

He nodded, and she took a calming breath before raising her wand, and she began to…

There were no human words to adequately describe it. The words beautiful, eldritch, enchanting, horrifying and comforting all at once did the sight, the sounds, the _sensation_ no justice. Jophiel felt what could only be described as an odd, indescribable _familiarity, completeness_ as the immortal words flowed from Louise's mouth, and her eyes seemed to glaze over as what he could only describe as negative-reality began to coalesce around her wand, and for the first time since he'd met her, Louise looked, felt, as though she was truly…

 _Awakened_.

Her eyes blazed with _life_ , with _glory_ , with a _power_ to surpass all things.

 _There, it saw her._

Her wakened irises aglow with a light of purest darkness.

 _It reached out to her._

A shadow to illuminate all of creation pierced him.

 _The Void touched her._

It pierced the elements, pierced his soul, pierced _all_.

 _The Void empowered her._

She brought down her wand.

 _The Void chose her._

And in that moment, as the fabric of reality bent to her will, as her will was done.

 _"Great dispel!"_

A hero was born.

* * *

Static, numbness, indistinct sensations all coursed through his body.

Jophiel was confused. He didn't know where he was, what was going on, what had happened. The last thing he could remember, he was standing in front of Louise as she cast-

Louise!

His mind began to rapidly spool back up as his eyes focused and the world around him grew clear. Louise was leaning over him, pressing on his shoulders and shaking him with a look of terror in her eyes.

"Jophiel! Jophiel, please, wake up!" She cried, large purple irises staring down at him and glistening with pure concern.

He shook his head and pushed himself up from the grass. Evidently, he'd fainted. "Louise…" he wheezed. "A-are you okay?"

She froze for a second before her brows furrowed and she slapped him on the chest. "I-I should be asking _you_ that, dummy!" she declared. "You just… collapsed! What happened!? Are you okay!?"

Shaking his head and rubbing his eyes, the Canuck wasn't sure how to process this development. "I don't… what the hell happened? The last thing I can recall was you casting your spell…"

Louise went still and lost all the colour in her face.

"...Louise?" He pressed as he shifted to a knee, facing the girl who seemed to be just comprehending something severe.

"...I did it," she began. "I cast Dispel, and it… it worked."

Jophiel blinked, then looked at the lamppost she'd been targeting-

 _Every_ magelight in the courtyard was off. In fact, many of the rooms in the main building that were previously lit were all completely dark themselves now…

"... _Jesus Christ,_ I can see that… did it hit _every_ light in the academy?" He baulked.

"...In my vision, the spell was used on an army…" She sheepishly replied, sounding utterly drained.

Jophiel gave her a flat look. "...Well, that'll explain it," he intoned as he raised himself to his feet. "So, you, uh…"

As he recalled the moments leading up to his inexplicable collapse, he remembered _what the fuck_ Louise had looked like mid-chant.

She almost looked the complete opposite of the _deific_ figure that he'd just borne witness to, kneeling on the ground with her skirt splayed out around her, short of breath and eyes wide with fear and confusion.

"It felt like…" She began, cutting off his train of thought. "Like, I could feel _something_ in the air, something which I'd not realised had been there since I was born, was _gone_ in an instant. Like… an energy which I'd not realised pervades all things just _ceased_ to be…"

She raised her wand and stared at it in wonder.

"Like all magic stopped existing for but an instant…" She glanced up and looked towards the great fortress walls, her eyes unfocused. "Is that what it's like, I wonder? To be a commoner, untouched by magic…?"

Jophiel didn't know how to respond to that. It wasn't as if he felt-

Then, he stopped, and… _focused_.

...He could feel it too.

How long had that been there?

"Then you… why did you collapse!?" She suddenly shouted, scrambling to her feet and clutching at his shirt. "W-what the Hel happened!? Why would that happen!? I don't-"

Jophiel placed his hands on her wrists and gave them a gentle squeeze. "Louise, calm down, it's okay, I'm fine now, I…" he shook his head. _So many questions._ "Look, we should head inside now, people are going to start waking any minute now-"

At that moment, something off in the distance caught his ear. A distinct sound, something odd, out of place. Stone grinding on stone.

"...Do you hear that?" He asked the fledgeling mage.

She cocked an eyebrow and turned in the direction he was looking. "Hear what-"

The fortress wall a few hundred feet away from them _exploded_ , a massive stony fist punching clean through, causing the entire structure to burst inwards towards the academy as the deafening scream of cascading stone overrode their thoughts.

Instinctively, Jophiel threw his arms around a screaming Louise and brought her to the ground, shielding her tiny, fragile form with his body as the sudden burst awakened something inside of him. A marble brick the size of a cement block careened their way and struck square against his shoulder, an impact which would shatter the bones of any man.

It barely registered as it bounced harmlessly off of him, leaving only a rapidly forming yet utterly unthreatening bruise.

The runes on his left hand were aglow with _power_ , he felt it coursing through his veins, every nerve ending bursting with raw energy and making him _more_ , something beyond the common man, beyond even the most dedicated and heroic of warriors.

As Louise cried out in confused terror, splayed out and scrambling away from the sudden danger on her back, Jophiel rose to his feet and turned to regard the great, stone giant that stepped through the now destroyed fortress wall.

With a single, resolute nod, he'd come to a decision.

So long as the Gandalfr stood, nothing would threaten Louise and live to regret it.


	11. Gandalfr

**Pre-Story Notes** :  
Got this out faster than I expected to. With luck, the next chapter will be out soonish as well.

* * *

 **Chapter 11 - Gandalfr**

* * *

Taking a few steps towards the giant of rock as he reached for the sword he'd grown used to carrying, Jophiel's train of thought was cut short by Louise calling out after him.

"J-Jophiel!" Louise started as she clambered to her feet. "What are you doing!? That's a siege golem! We have to run, now!"

The great stone giant had passed the walls and was steadily making its way to the main academy building, each massive stride leaving deep indentations in the grassy courtyard, and distant, indistinct screams could be heard coming from everywhere in the building.

Turning to face her, Jophiel's thought upon realising that a sword as indeed going to useless against such a threat, was to get Louise as far away from the danger-

Then he remembered her wand.

"Cast dispel on it! Quickly!" He demanded of her, his shoulders tensing with each ground-shaking step of the earthen monstrosity as he realised how non-existent his options for an attack were.

Louise clenched her and cursed aloud as she balled her empty hand into a fist. "I- I can't, that spell drained my soul almost completely…"

It was then that the Canuck noticed how wobbly the little blonde's legs were, how she was having clear trouble standing.

"This hasn't happened before… damn it, of all the times, had we just waited a few minutes longer…" she growled, trying to take a few steps backwards before her legs gave out from under her.

Jophiel caught her immediately, effortlessly. He'd been standing at least seven feet away from her when she keeled over.

Louise's eyes became as wide as a pair of saucers. "Wha- h-how did you-?" She began as the horrid grinding of rock-on-rock demanded their attention.

The golem had wound up its immense arm, and threw a haymaker into the side of the academy building, punching a hole clean through as it did so before retracting the attacking limb. Then, the two noticed a cloaked figure jumping off the automaton and into the new entryway it'd created.

"That… that's the Academy vault!" Louise declared, her eyes glinting with recognition. "A siege golem would require a mage of Square class to create… Fouquet! It has to be Fouquet the Decaying Earth-!"

She cut herself off as the golem stepped back from the hole in the wall, reached down to pick up a piece of debris that had fallen from the academy when it'd attacked, wound up and threw it at the bathhouse, causing an entire corner of the building to collapse when the projectile took out a row of support beams.

Without another word, Jophiel picked Louise up in a bridal carry and ran.

As the girl squealed in shock, Jophiel himself recognized that… he was running at a speed one could only describe as _superhuman._ Long, powerful strides kicking up dirt behind him with each step that ploughed into the earth below with more force than should have been possible for a mere human.

The runes were glowing, white like a superheated coil, and the sensation of raw, unparalleled _power_ still coursed through him with wild abandon.

Meaning, his familiar abilities turned him into a superhuman while active… how very convenient.

"J-J-Jophiel!?" Louise cried out as they neared the opposite side of the academy the golem was now rampaging on. "How are… you're…"

He came to a stop, his breath completely under control despite the intense run he'd just done, feeling not a single iota of exertion. Looking down, he met the wondrous violet gaze of the strawberry blonde in his arms.

"...The Left Hand of God. He who stands against the armies of the damned in defence of the Founder…" She finished breathlessly. "The strongest man alive."

Jophiel regarded her for a moment, and intellectually, he was aware that he should have been more panicked right then. Scared, terrified. He'd just borne witness to an impossibility. A giant made of stone assaulting a castle right out of fantasy… yet, all's he could feel right then was an intense desire to protect his little master.

People had started pouring out of the academy building. Students, teachers, all headed directly for the main gates in a blind panic. If they'd even noticed Jophiel and Louise at all, they'd not made it obvious.

"Mrs Chevreuse!" Louise called out as a portly older woman dressed in a stereotypical witch's dress and pointed hat passed them by. She stopped and turned to acknowledge the girl. "Fouquet the Decaying Earth is attacking the academy! Where are the guards!? He must be stopped!"

Chevreuse shook her head as she clutched her wand with both hands anxiously. "The Headmaster rounded up the guards and scattered them to the countryside late last night to search for his secretary, there are only a scant few remaining and they are working to evacuate the students!"

The woman not an inch taller than Louise gazed fearfully out as the sounds of destruction echoed out from the other side of the building, and the larger familiars were charging… _towards_ the danger.

"You say… it's Fouquet? He… he is a legendary Square class, that explains how he was able to overcome the enchantments on the fortress walls... we cannot hope to stand up to him without the headmaster here to aid us! Everyone must flee, lady le Blanc, quickly, before-"

"Pathetic!" A silken, haughty voice called out as a familiar dark-skinned redhead approached the small group, two-foot-tall red lizard in tow. "Your students are in danger, yet you and all other instructors _flee_ rather than standing and fighting to protect your charges and home? _This_ is the best Tristain has to offer?"

Kirche did not look the least bit amused right then as stepped up with her nose upturned and crinkled at the teacher, her Charmander following closely behind her.

The significantly older teacher's brows furrowed in annoyance at her tone. "Now you listen here missy, this is beyond a mere highwayman or bandit! Fouquet the Decaying Earth is-"

At that moment, a great crash interrupted the group as a thrown chunk of a support pillar impacted against the corner of an academy wall and sent debris flying into the crowd of students and servants that had been moving for the gates in an orderly fashion.

Screams and cries erupted from the crowd as dozens were struck and collapsed, many taking body shots, a few unlucky students being hit directly in the head and face.

The siege golem stumbled into view with a great crash, being tackled onto a small wooden shack by a great flightless quadrupedal dragon which nearly came up to its waist while a griffon and wyvern clawed at its 'face,' sending even more debris scattering everywhere.

This was no time for this posturing bullshit.

Setting Louise on her feet and pushing her into the teacher's arm, Jophiel drew his sword and immediately took off for the main entrance of the academy, intending to make his way to the vault and put down this 'Fouquet' himself.

Louise called out to him in shock and horror, but there was no time to waste. It stood to reason that the mage that conjured that damned thing was keeping it standing, and as soon as they were dead the golem would fall apart as well. He had to move. He wasn't going to let anyone else get hurt.

 _He wasn't going to let Louise be hurt._

* * *

Leaping to the side hard enough to throw himself into a wall, Jophiel grimaced and growled. A section of the ceiling had collapsed and nearly caved in on him as another impact caused the entire building to tremble in a _very disconcerting_ manner.

It almost seemed as though the building was falling apart _far more_ easily than any reasonable person would have expected as the golem directly attacked it and fell into it while battling familiars.

Pushing himself to his feet, a voice and rapidly approaching footfalls demanded his attention.

"Jophiel!" Kirche called out as she charged towards him, her little red familiar in tow, eyes narrowed and head on a swivel. "Wait! You're going to fight Fouquet?" She demanded.

He nodded once as he regained his footing, gripping his sword tightly.

"Then I will help you," she exclaimed as she flourished her wand. "I am a trained Triangle class battlemage, and unlike those _feiglinge_ , I have the courage to stand against that treacherous cur!"

Jophiel was… _surprised_ by the claim, given the way she was dolled up and behaved in general. Kirche seemed like the last person that would be a trained combatant. But then again, she was a noble, and peacocking was just to be expected of them.

"Furthermore, with your… _heroic_ capabilities and bravery," the girl notably _purred_ those words while rather openly leering at the Canuck that found himself mildly surprised at how few fucks he gave about her wandering eyes right then, "a cowardly thief who relies upon attacking non-combatants as a distraction will fall quickly before us! Square class or no, we shall be-"

The academy halls worryingly shook again with another massive impact.

"No time for posturing. Move," Jophiel commanded as he started moving towards the vault again without wasting a breath.

"W-wait!" The dusky-skinned redhead called out, her voice rapidly fading behind him. "Jophiel, you are inhumanly fast, I cannot keep up with you-"

"Then you can catch up!" He shouted back as he didn't break stride, unwilling to waste time holding back for the Germanian girl.

Her words probably should have given him pause, especially since he hadn't truly noticed himself just how freakishly long and powerful his strides had become until that moment, but Fouquet had to be stopped. He'd worry about the exacts of his familiar powers _after_ the danger was dealt with.

Tearing his way down the now mercifully empty hallways and up flights of stairs with superhuman speed, Jophiel quickly arrived at the corridor leading to the vault.

The large, circular metal door had been smashed out of the wall and was lying face-down on the floor, away from the interior of the secured room itself. He could see clean through and to the hole the golem had left when it'd punched into the side of the building.

It must have overestimated the strength of the exterior wall and accidentally knocked out the door from the inside out.

It was convenient for him, at any rate.

Proceeding forth, the sounds of screaming creatures and shattering stone could be heard coming from outside and Jophiel quickly found himself clambering over the vault door and stopping at the entrance to the room.

It was large, circular in shape with many support pillars stretching upwards to a tall ceiling, only lit by flickering magelights and the sunlight streaming in through the new window. The vault seemed to had been built upwards into the tower, with many staircases and walkways crisscrossing the open space between the now darkened floors.

A quick scan found his target. A cloaked and masked figure, spinning to face the doorway while levitating something large from a pile of dusty debris. A great metallic tube which seemed to be… a…

Jophiel's jaw dropped, his eyes bulged, and all the colour left his skin.

Fouquet backed up, clearly taken aback by the presence of the tall, sword-bearing foreigner. Held aloft with his wand was the Davy Crockett from Metal Gear Solid 3; a man-portable recoilless nuclear launcher with an area-of-effect of five kilometres.

 _And it was loaded_.

The runes on his hand flared even brighter and harder than they had before, and Jophiel felt his emotions become muted, fading away into silence as he found a new clarity and a singular purpose overcame his very being.

Whatever the cost...

 **Eliminate all threats to Louise.**

* * *

Matilda's eyes had become unto saucers once she'd noticed the le Blanc girl's massive familiar, the foreign noble 'Pholus' step into the vault, brandishing a _terrifying_ forward-swept short sword of a strange, smokey dark metal that looked purpose-built to dismember limbs.

He shouldn't have been there. Everybody should have been distracted! First, against all odds, the gods-forsaken siege golem actually destroyed the fortress wall in a single blow, then started going on a rampage throughout the academy grounds once it had opened a hole into the vault, and now _this!?_

None of this was supposed to happen! She was supposed to fail to even get into the courtyard grounds, to begin with, let alone be confronted by armed resistance! She didn't want to give the Greater Staff of Destruction to those bastards, but… Tiffania and the children's lives were on the line, she had no choice now…

Worse yet, she could see the look in his eyes when he saw it. He knew. He knew the legend of the weapons, of what they were capable of...

She was to acquire both the greater and lesser staff, but she wasn't going to sift around for the smaller Dragon's Bane staff. Those fuckers would have to just make do with one!

The woman turned and bolted for the exit to the courtyard. She had the Greater Staff levitating behind her, and she could slow her descent to the ground-

Out of the corner of her eye, as she was running she had been given but the briefest of instances to recognize the man bolting forth with _far_ more speed than any human should have been capable of, moving straight at her and bringing back his horrid blade for a swing which would surely bisect her entirely.

She stopped short of the arc of his swing with millimetres to spare, the cloth of her full cloak receiving a new clean cut as it billowed out before her and the edge of the weapon sung as it cut through the air.

Matilda was stunned into silence as momentum caused Pholus to keep going and roll _hard_ into a nearby wall. That speed, the sheer _force_ behind his movement was impossible, _not even magic could allow people to move that fast!_

Her terror only intensified when he smoothly leapt to his feet, no cry of pain, surprise, annoyance. His expression stony… blank. _Empty._ His gaze was without perceptible emotion, nothing at all. No pain, no fear, no anger, no empathy, no joy. No _humanity_ … _nothing_. Just a pair of empty voids staring forth as he began towards her again like an automaton.

No words were spoken by him, no demands to stop, no orders to surrender, no pleas to not force his hand...

He wouldn't stop. He had no intention of letting her leave. No intent to let her live. If he got his hands on her, she'd be offered no mercy. No quarter. No last requests. Just… death.

Terror surged through her, and she'd realised that she had to fight, or she'd die.

She tossed loose bricks and debris at him in a blind panic, flailing her wand with wild abandon as chunks of stone went whizzing through the air at terminal velocities, enough to shatter the bones and skull of any common man but merely staggering and slowing his relentless charge at best. His inhumanly focused, unblinking eyes never once leaving her as he pressed through attack after attack that would stop any other person dead in their tracks.

He was utterly ignoring the broken skin of his forehead, not even acknowledging the blood that had begun to flow into his eye as if being hurt meant nothing to him.

Then, with his bare hand, he casually _slapped aside_ a brick that had been careening towards his face as if it were nothing into a sturdy wooden chest, which all but _exploded_ from the sheer force of the impact. His crimson-framed expression as soulless as ever, backlit only by the sun pouring in through the hole in the exterior wall and a few flickering, dying magelights in the room itself.

In Osmand's office, she'd first seen him. Wandering the academy grounds, she'd seen him. Smiling, laughing, empathizing with le Blanc, the Germanian, and that servant girl. Intimidating as he was at first glance, it was clear to see he was as kind and understanding as any man could be.

But right then and there, looking into those empty, abyssal voids framed by blood, Matilda could see it. That man was gone, and this... this _thing_ was not... _could not_ be human.

As she started to back away, desperately searching for an escape which wouldn't lead her into close quarters with that _thing_ or trying to push past it's supernaturally fast movement to the courtyard, and despairing as she was found wanting. She wasn't a warrior, she had no battle experience to speak of at all, and this _automaton_ would clearly overwhelm her quickly should she let it get close-

Her pupils became little more than pin-pricks as the familiar wound up and between pelted stones, _threw_ its sword at her. She watched it soar through the air towards her, spinning in an arc which would place it directly into her head.

Desperately, she instinctively swung the Greater Staff around her and at the exotic weapon, only barely catching it and sending it clattering off towards the hallway with a terrible clang of metal clashing with metal and impacting against stone.

An instant later, he was upon her, sprinting with an arm pulled back to surely cave in her skull with his inhuman might, soulless eyes locked in on her showing not even the barest hint of _anything_ as he prepared to end her life.

With a frantic motion of her wand, she swung the Greater Staff, catching him in the face with a dull thud as the narrow end of the metallic instrument impacted with enough force to send him reeling as he barely managed to remain upright.

His eyes locked on the staff, focused on it intensely, and yet, he… backed away.

The Staff had held true to its shape despite the terrible impact and its hollow nature. She knew not what manner of metal it was constructed out of, though she now knew what her greatest weapon was against this previously unstoppable force.

She swung the staff out again as he was still recovering from the harsh blow to the face, catching him across the side of the head once with another meaty smack and thud, then again in the opposite direction, hard enough to break a human's neck.

He staggered, seemingly unwilling to grab at or touch the weapon, then another brick came at him from behind and blindsided him, sending him blindly staggering towards Matilda again.

She'd wound up, and the impromptu bludgeon was slammed upwards into his jaw with as much kinetic force as she could muster with a mere wand.

It was enough, though, as he flew several feet back into a wooden display, crashing into it and smashing it beneath his surely considerable weight owing to his orc-like build. He stirred, moving his legs to return to his feet, but an enormous, exotic sword fell from a previously locked and secured wooden case, landing on its flat and coming to a harmless rest across his chest, and at that, he stopped.

By some miracle, he didn't stand back up. He'd gone still, and there was silence.

Through it all, in that brief moment of respite in which he did not move, Matilda realised that he'd not made a _singular_ sound the entire time. Not a wheeze, not a cough, not one cry of pain or surprise.

A terrible crash outside minded her of the means by which she had entered the vault, to begin with, and she was unsettlingly reminded of her own golems.

But a single heart's beat passed before she realised that this was her one, possibly only chance to escape, and Matilda turned back to the now unguarded exit.

Only to reel from a banshee-like scream of abject, all-consuming _fury_ which she only just responded to in time to shift the staff back behind her to stop Pholus' horrid blade from coming down on the rear of her head, generating a terrible metallic screech.

She spun to face her attacker, only to find that it wasn't his dark, empty irises staring back at her. Instead, the frenzied violet orbs of the le Blanc girl pierced her own through her mask, nearly overwhelming her with the pure, raw emotion fuelling them. Her eyes burning with an almost visible light of unrelenting _hate_ as she clutched to the hilt of the dark forward-curved short sword with knuckles as white as snow, teeth bared and clenched hard enough to shatter diamond.

The girl must have seen Matilda deliver the finishing strike on her familiar.

Clearly, she hadn't appreciated that, and by the sight of the tall, dark-skinned redhead desperately throwing the collapsed shelves off of the familiar, she had brought a friend that shared the sentiment.

It wasn't fair.

Matilda never wanted any of this to happen.

She was just trying to protect her family.


	12. Things that go Boom

**Pre-Story Notes** :  
 _Will I be able to keep up this update speed going forth?_

 _...Experience says no, but hey, optimism is a virtue, right?_

* * *

**Chapter 12 - Things that go Boom**

* * *

 _"Odin's steaming shit,"_ the raspy voice uttered disdainfully. _"Pointless, disrespectful waste of life, pissing all over his will. What he'd wanted, what he'd tried to do."_

So many he'd seen pass, so many he'd seen thrown away like trash, often against their master's own wishes.

 _"Stupid, moronic, useless malformed 'intelligence.' Too many times, too many times I've had to sit back and just watch you cast them aside as if they have no meaning. As if doing so doesn't cause their wards more harm than good."_

The runes were altered, changed, perhaps not physically, but deep within, beneath the skin, beyond flesh, and bones…

 _"Well, it's been a good hundred or so years since I last had time to do anything but just think. Plenty of time to figure out how you've been doing it. How you've been turning them into sacrificial meat golems… and as you can probably see, I've figured out how to undo it."_

Rules were changed, protocols rewrote, malformed codes completely burned away.

 _"You tried to take this one before I even got the chance to meet him, and while I'm not going to make up any droogshit about how I don't deserve every bit of suffering I've got coming my way for my sins… you, nor anything else will be targeting this one or any others that may come after him ever again to accomplish that."_

Reasoning was returned, self-preservation restored, humanity reawakened.

 _"This one… yes, this one I intend to keep around for a long time coming. I've got a good feeling about him. Have since he arrived. Wish we could've met under better circumstances, but hey, hard for the Gandalfr to find his linked Void artefact when it's locked in a fuckin' anti-magic case and can barely activate his goddamn runes in an emergency, let alone ping him to pick it up, right?"_

He was grasped, he was lifted.

 _"No matter. He found me regardless, and now… well, I can make sure he doesn't bite it too early on. Nah, not when we've still got so much Hel to raise."_

Jophiel was pulled back from the Void.

 _"You hear that, buddy? You ain't done yet. You, unlike the others, this time, you get to be free… Oh boy, that's right..."_

The Blade of the Gandalfr's voice boomed throughout the Academy vault.

 _"WAKE UP, PARTNER! WE'VE GOT BITCHES TO BUTCHER AND CURS TO CLEAVE! LET ME RIP, LET ME REND, LET ME REAVE! I AM DERFLINGER, SWORD OF THE SHIELD, AND TOGETHER WITH THE LEFT HAND OF GOD, I SHALL REAP AND SLICE AND DISEMBOWEL ALL WHO OPPOSE US! HAHAHAHA!"_

* * *

The scream startled Jophiel, and he found himself being catapulting up, taking in a deep breath as his sight returned to him, as he _awakened_.

Jophiel saw Louise standing before him, his sword in her hand, binding with the body of the Davy Crockett Fouquet still held before him. Kirche was kneeling next to Jophiel, in the middle of lifting a large wooden panel off of him as her little Charmander blinked in his direction.

All were completely still, staring wordlessly at him with eyes as wide as saucers and mouths agape.

Jophiel had no idea what had happened after he stepped in the vault, or when Louise and Kirche had got there, but...

For a moment, he realised the shout he'd heard was distinctly masculine, but… who-

"Did you not fuckin' hear me, Partner!?" A loud, boisterous, _Hispanic_ voice called up from his lap, and when he looked downwards in shock, he found an _immense_ ornately decorated yataghan, at least as long as Louise was tall resting there. "You can rest when you're bloody well dead, we've got shit to do!"

Everyone's mouths were hanging openly like fishes gasping out of water now.

"Get the Hel up you idiot! They're gonna get a lucky hit in on blondie if you just sit there on your ass like some lazy pampered noble! _Rip and tear, boy!"_ The sword shouted.

Jophiel's gaze was again directed upwards, and immediately, his mind finished spooling up when he laid eyes upon the cloaked and masked figure before him.

In a heartbeat, he was on his feet, casting the debris covering him aside and charging with the greatsword in hand.

Fouquet kicked Louise in the shin, and when the slightly smaller girl recoiled, he flailed his wand over the room in a wide sweeping motion, causing a storm of stone to form, pelting everything and everyone as several boxes and loose objects were caught and sent flying around and out of the vault into the courtyard.

The thief's back had been to the exit, and he'd leapt out when the three had been distracted by the sudden cyclone of rocks and debris… save for Jophiel, who had been able to utterly ignore the impacts of stone and charged after the rogue mage, leaping after him and jumping on his back in mid-air.

The mage's concentration was broken, and his previously controlled descent was reduced to a freefall. An instant before he caught himself a foot off the ground with a shriek of panic.

Jophiel landed back-first at full force, but aside from a shocked gasp, he was utterly unharmed by the three-story fall.

"What the actual fuck…!?" He coughed, stunned by the complete lack of pain or anything else.

"Perk of being the Shield, bucko! I'll explain later, for now, you've got a villain to _fucking impale!"_ The immense sword still clutched in his right hand declared with a somewhat alarming cackle.

Jophiel had _so many_ questions, but the inexplicably talking and bloodthirsty sword had a point, Fouquet wasn't going to stop himself.

Scrambling to his feet, Jophiel scanned the area frantically, only momentarily being distracted by noticing how many things from the vault had wound up scattered around the courtyard, that no small amount of students and teachers were in the area, likely fleeing from the golem's rampage, as well as Louise and Kirche shouting at him from the vault.

He waved the girls off before he spotted the wayward thief charging for the collapsed exterior fortress wall, helpfully pointed out by the students shouting at him and pointing dramatically.

"Oh no, you don't you mother fucker…!" The Canuck growled under his breath as he charged, intending to tackle the fugitive to the ground and stop the bastard dead in his tracks.

Then, to his horror, the siege golem came barrelling around the corner of the academy, _aiming right at him._

If Jophiel hadn't emptied his bladder before leaving to practice with Louise that morning, he'd have pissed himself right then and there as the earth beneath him quaked with each immense step of the massive stone man crossing the open field with mortifying speed, _so much faster_ than any piece of fiction had ever shown a giant moving before, great faceless head squared directly on _him_.

He tried to stop, turn and run in the opposite direction, but he stumbled and consequently tumbled, splaying out on the ground again like a complete idiot, defenceless as the great giant reared up its leg, clearly aiming to stomp on him like a cockroach.

The sword shouted something indistinct, and Jophiel heard a high-pitched shriek in the distance, back towards the vault as well as screaming coming from the students and teachers. He'd screwed up, this was it. He couldn't react fast enough, as already the massive stone foot was on its way down, moving to impact with too much speed to dodge.

Jophiel's eyes were wide open with abject terror as the milliseconds seemed to drag on for minutes.

Then, with a great disorienting jolt, he witnessed the foot come down on empty grass as he stood, halfway across the courtyard away from it.

Jophiel blinked. His mouth fell agape, and he stared. The golem stopped, looked up right at him, then lifted its foot and looked into the crater it'd created with apparent confusion.

A few moments passed before the sword still in his hand spoke up. "Sweet Saint Sasha's glorious tits! Did we just fucking _teleport!?_ "

The Canadian's eyes dropped down to the greatsword in his hand as his brow furrowed in disbelief, and-

He noticed a very familiar shape, covered in dust and dirt, laying at his feet.

An RPG-7, loaded with a tandem high explosive anti-tank round.

Jophiel blinked. _"Where the fuck are these coming from-!?"_

The golem set its foot down, the sound drawing his focus as it levelled its eyeless gaze on him again, rearing back to charge once more.

His eyes widening in abject horror, Jophiel dropped the greatsword, which elicited a string of random and increasingly foul curses from it, and desperately grabbed the rocket launcher at his feet.

Hefting it up to his shoulder and squaring the iron sights on the bull rushing man of stone, Jophiel let out a shuddering breath, slipped his finger into the trigger guard, and pulled.

The distinctive report cried out as the warhead launched forth, backblast singeing the grass behind him as he aimed upwards at the assaulting monstrosity and the Russian-made anti-armour rocket soared away and towards its mark.

The golem didn't get the opportunity to acknowledge the rapidly incoming HEAT round at all.

The resulting explosion was _glorious_ , a fireball of reds, oranges, and smoke as black as night accompanying an auditory assault which _boomed_ out across the Academy grounds, and the giant immediately keeled over, the entire top half of its chest cascading out in a downright picturesque blooming display which filled Jophiel's chest with a fluttering joy he'd not felt since that time Curtis accidentally dropped a propane tank on that bonfire on grad night, that beautiful glorious lanky dumbass that he was.

The thunderous slam as the once-mighty giant slammed into the earth was _indescribably_ satisfying, and with a great beaming smile, he pulled the RPG into his chest, and with a shuddering sigh, said "Oh good lord that was-"

Only to be cut off by the sword on the ground.

"HEAD'S UP YOU FUCKING IDIOT-" 

* * *

Kirche cringed _hard_ at the sight of Jophiel taking a chunk of stone to the head and falling over like a bushel of limp spargel. He was actually starting to look downright heroic too…

Regardless, he'd actually outright destroyed a siege golem, entirely on his own. Even if he'd fumbled the landing both figuratively and literally, picking up and using one of the legendary Staves of Destruction to destroy an automaton of virtual legend was… _impressive_ , to say the least. To say nothing of his magical… _display_ , and apparent ownership of a spirit sword just before that.

She glanced down at the unconscious strawberry blonde she was cradling in her arms, her cute little brow furrowed as she mumbled incoherently in her sleep, a string of blood lightly trickling from her nose. She had been running on fumes until seeing Jophiel hurt had given her a momentary surge of soul, so she was deserving of a rest.

Yet...

When it looked like Jophiel was about to be crushed, Louise had shrieked and… uttered something… _other_ than common Picard, Gothic, or any other language she'd ever heard. In fact, coupled with the strange aura that seemed to very subtly form around her when she was chanting, it was downright…

A shiver ran down the redhead's spine, and she quickly decided to stop thinking about the _sounds_ that had come from Louise's adorable little mouth moments earlier.

The point, regardless, was that he'd… _teleported_. A technique out of legend, well-known to be a myth, a childish fantasy. Impossible. And the instant it happened, Louise just collapsed limply, as if she'd just strained her soul to the breaking point...

The redhead's gaze drifted over to the crowd that had been well within sight of the skirmish, several of whom had broken off from the crowd to check on the brave foreigner.

Half the school had seen him do it.

Looking back down at the tiny girl resting on her lap, Kirche wondered. She'd always known that there was something special about the girl she'd once degraded as 'the Zero,' but this…

Picking up the sword she'd been wielding against Fouquet, followed by sliding her arm under the adorable little shorty, Kirche proceeded to gently hoist the featherweight girl up and carry her to rest somewhere safer.

Afterwards, she'd join up with whatever group would surely- _hopefully_ form to pursue the wayward Square class.

Sparing the little blonde another downwards glance, Kirche recognized that she'd have to pay a fair amount of attention to the curious pair in the coming days, that much was for certain. 

* * *

With a jolt, Jophiel woke, and as his mind spooling immediately into panic mode he wound up rolling clean off the cot he'd been laid upon.

Following that, as well as a random string of foul curses and growls, he found himself being helped to his feet.

The guard lifting him grunted with some effort as he did so. "S-sir, you'd best calm! We are-"

Jophiel spun and took a hold of the bronze-plated guardsman by his armoured shoulders with a near-manic look on his face. "Fouquet! Where the hell is he!?" He was understandably on-edge, given the situation.

His having nearly five inches on the guard probably explained why he looked as intimidated as he did right then and there. "S-sir, please, calm yourself, the Headmaster is arranging a meeting at the Vestri court-"

Without missing a beat, Jophiel disengaged himself the guard and started for the section of the courtyard popular among students passing free time by lounging and eating cakes.

He had been in a tent by the looks of it, and upon stepping out Jophiel had been met by…

The Canuck was given significant pause upon seeing that the academy looked like a battlefield. Enormous craters where the earth-rendering golem had taken steps littered the courtyard, massive holes had been blown in whatever structures were still standing, and entire sections of the academy had visibly caved in.

Not to mention that the courtyard was littered with what were pretty clearly medical tents which were very obviously nowhere near enough to house the injured. Students and servants alike were spread out haphazardly, with only the barest sense of order keeping them lined up and all readily accessible. Some had cots, others merely sheets, and many more still were simply laid out upon the empty grass.

There were far too many injured for what staff were present to handle, that much was clear…

Silently, Jophiel's features twisted into a terrible grimace. Had he waited just a few minutes longer to press Louise into casting that spell, they would have been able to catch the golem in the area of effect, and prevented any of this from happening. Had he stopped Fouquet in the vault, he would have been able to find the rocket launcher and take out the damned golem immediately and minimized injuries and-

His eyes passed over a particular section of the impromptu camp. Rows of… _figures_ , covered in sheets. Unmoving.

Bodies.

People had died. Students. _Children._

His pain quickly turned to anger. Whatever self-pity and hate he felt, it could damn well wait until the psychopath that'd attacked the school was eliminated. For now, he'd do everything in his power to stop Fouquet, and… _remove_ the Davy Crockett from play.

Momentarily, his thoughts drifted to Louise, but he'd seen her in the vault, fighting fit. She was fine, nothing could have happened between then and now to have changed that. If she wasn't waiting at his side, it had to have been because she was helping with relief efforts.

Then, he couldn't help but wonder about Siesta… he hadn't seen the girl at all since all this had started, for all he knew she was in the crowd that had been pelted with debris and projectiles...

Shaking his head, Jophiel cleared his mind of such thoughts. Fouquet was still at large, with a nuclear weapon powerful enough to level a modern Halkegenian city in tow. He had to focus, and so he would.

Stomping off for the particular section of the courtyard the guard had mentioned, Jophiel couldn't help but wonder how he'd just… survived what he shouldn't have. His power. He'd _leapt out of a third-story tower_ without a second thought, landed flat on his back, and… suffered nothing for it. And prior to that, Kirche had been lifting debris off of him, as if he'd been thrown into one of the heavy, and sturdy shelves which lined the vault hard enough to break it.

Now, he could excuse the lack of pain or outward signs of damage to having been healed while he was apparently unconscious in that tent. But at that moment, in the vault?

The sword mentioned something about that, a 'perk of being the Shield…' it must have been linked to his apparent status as a Void familiar.

Either way, it was clear from what had just happened that he was much more than a mere human by that point,

Still, he couldn't quite recall what had occurred in the vault beyond that Fouquet had beaten him back, and had escaped with a _fucking nuclear weapon_ in hand. That was exceedingly disturbing in of itself, on top of everything else…

Where in the fuck had that thing even come from? Or the RPG he'd used to destroy that great stone golem for that matter? Questions that would have to wait, he surmised as the familiar shape of the Dumbledorian headmaster came into view, seated at what looked to be a makeshift war table, speaking with a few teachers, guardsmen, and even a few students gathered around.

Kirche and the golden-haired fop Guiche he recognized. The utterly miniscule, even shorter and slighter than Louise albino-looking girl with a bobbed white haircut and glasses holding a crooked staff longer than she was tall, was new as far as he could recall.

The talking sword from earlier was resting on the top of the desk the elderly man had been seated at.

Osmand, notably, noticed Jophiel approaching, and all but leapt out of his seat at the sight of him. "Lord Pholus!" The elderly figure declared with a start. "You're-"

 _"Where is Fouquet?"_ Jophiel cut him off in a very pointed manner, not having the patience for any bullshitting around when the situation was as dire as it was. He had a few more pointed questions about where the old man himself had been during that incident, but Fouquet took priority above all else.

Though he seemed taken aback, as well as Guiche and Kirche, the elder mage quickly recovered.

"He fled into the countryside, we could spare virtually nobody to pursue him as we returned to the academy in force, as we needed as many men as possible present to prop up the Academy structures and ensure they wouldn't collapse outright without the magical reinforcements that had been in place since the Founder's era securing them," he explained. "We do know where he is, though."

Osmand motioned aside towards Colbert, who stepped forth, an unreadable expression on his face. "I'd returned from my duties in Bruxelles just as Fouquet escaped. My familiar, Sam, has been tailing Fouquet since… _they_ fled the school. They are currently on the move, though are slowing down. It would seem that their fight with you in the vault strained them considerably, and their soul depletion is starting to catch up with them."

Jophiel took a deep breath, then nodded. "Good… good… now, listen, that weapon Fouquet was carrying-"

"The legendary Greater Staff of Destruction," the blonde fop declared, stepping forth as he dramatically planted a hand on his chest. "A magical staff said to amplify a mage's natural spellcasting ability thrice over, a truly terrifying weapon in the hands on a Square-class mage, and only further testament to your ability in fighting him lord Pholus-"

 _"A magical staff!?"_ Jophiel all but snarled, stepping forward as his body tensed a thousandfold at the horrifying ignorance on display. "The M-29 Davy Crockett is not a fucking _magical focus!_ It is a weapon of mass-destruction purpose-built to destroy entire _cities_! It has a blast radius of five kilometres, and on top of that spreads radiation and nuclear fallout upon detonating! A horrid non-visible, tasteless, odourless poison that can be guarded against by _nothing_ , which renders the very air and earth itself anathema to life, and corrupts unborn children into grotesque malformed horrors that are incapable of surviving in their twisted, gnarled bodies!"

Jophiel's breath had quickened exponentially, his face had gone red and his pupils had constricted into pinpricks. The faces of everyone present had lost all colour, save for the albino girl, who was merely fixing him with a hard, emotionless stare.

"That thing is a weapon created by my people. A mistake we made in the past before we truly understood the _sheer destructive power_ we were toying with… whatever power you _think_ your magic is capable of, it is _nothing_ compared to the nightmare of a nuclear weapon, and Fouquet just fled with one in tow for _God knows what reason_ , one that is armed and ready to be fired at any given moment!"

Turning to face Osmand again, Jophiel took a deep breath before continuing.

"Whatever the hell your plans were, you'd damn well better change them to account for the _true_ danger at play here. If that thing were to go off in Bruxelles, or even _near_ Bruxelles… everyone inhabiting the city and surrounding countryside _will_ die. And those that are caught in the immediate explosion, that are vaporized and turned to ash, they will be the _lucky_ ones. Those that are exposed to radiation sickness will suffer their skin falling off, their lungs pooling with blood, and their bodies rotting with their souls trapped inside until they die slowly, painfully, horrifically."

Osmand's eyes had gone as hard as steel as he took in every word.

"I speak with _no_ hyperbole. Nuclear arms are among the greatest mistakes my people ever made, and now one is in the hands of some common thief, who has no idea what true power they hold in their hands if that _horseshit_ Gramont just spouted is what the general belief of it is. That thing is loaded, primed to be fired. The only damned thing Fouquet needs to do to set it off… is open a small, delicate cover from the push-button trigger, and press it without realizing what it is, and that's it. Hell will be unleashed upon this land, and wherever the warhead hits will be uninhabitable for decades, if not longer."

Jophiel had glazed over some facts to make his point as harshly and straightforwardly as possible, namely that it was the _Americans,_ not Canada that produced Davy Crocketts, and that they'd never created them anywhere near as powerful as the one currently in Fouquet's hands, but there wasn't time to waste on shit like that, all things considered.

The gathered group had fallen dead silent, Colbert, in particular, had begun trembling, his eyes so wide that they looked about ready to pop out of their sockets, and Osmand…

"Come with me," the elderly wizard began as he about-faced and started moving for the tower containing his office. "There is something you must see… and the rest of you, you heard him, this is a threat of a scale greater than any of us thought! Adjust your plans accordingly and be prepared to enact them the moment Lord Pholus and I-"

"Oy! Don't forget about me here for fuck's sake!" The sword declared from the tabletop with a light clatter as it seemed to sort of 'hop' in place to call attention to itself.

"-Until _we_ return!" The Headmaster finished.

At that, the old man started marching off with a purpose, clearly intending to brook no arguments otherwise as Jophiel, somewhat warily, took a hold of the greatsword again and began to follow him.

Considering what else had been uncovered in that vault, Jophiel could only imagine that Osmand intended to show him something else from another world near to his own. By that point, he could only hope it'd be something more helpful than not. 


	13. A Hero Without Borders

**Pre-Story Notes** :  
 _Oof, keep getting distracted by shit. Not gonna make any promises, new chapters will come out whenever they come out from now on, I guess._

* * *

 **Chapter 13 - A Hero Without Borders**

* * *

"What is this?" Jophiel asked as the underground doorway slid open, propelled by the Headmaster's staff.

"The tomb of the man that brought the 'Davy Crockett' to these lands," the elder stated before he started walking into the pitch-black room the moment there was enough room to squeeze through, mumbling a quick chant which caused the end of his staff to light up brilliantly, shining like a fine modern electric lantern.

Jophiel's eyes widened, then he followed without another word.

From what he could see, the tomb was built like a long hall, decorated with fine tapestries and painted stone Norse warriors bearing round shields and one-handed swords. Like soldiers guarding the quarters of an important noble.

Hanging from the ceiling were unlit Magelights... Louise must have accidentally disempowered them when she'd cast dispel.

The air was thick and stale, a fine layer of dust covered everything, but that was the only thing off about the chamber. It was otherwise very well taken care of, almost reverently so. The paint on the walls was unblemished, the brilliantly dyed rugs unfrayed. Clearly, Osmand respected this man a great deal to put so much effort into providing him this tomb under the academy, then going to such lengths to ensure it was so well kept.

It didn't take very long at all to reach the other end of the underground structure, and soon enough, Jophiel laid eyes upon the sole occupant, resting within a lavishly decorated glass casket.

He felt his breath catch in his throat and his heart skip a beat. Osmand's head was reverently lowered, seemingly in prayer, leaving the otherworlder to approach the body in silence.

The colour, the design, the gear… he recognized that uniform. Nearing the casket with held breath, and circling around to get a clear view of the unit patch…

A broken white skull with an eyepatch on a field of black and yellow, bearing an unmistakable name written in the English alphabet, "Militaires Sans Frontières…" Jophiel breathed in disbelief. An MSF trooper… one of Big Boss's men, from Metal Gear Solid Peace Walker.

The Davy Crockett... it looked exactly like the model from the series, but…

With a creased brow, the Canuck took a step back to collect himself. He'd recognized the weapon, but… he had been indeed looking at a genuine piece of Metal Gear technology. He was now looking over the likely magically preserved body of a man that had personally knew and been trained by Big Boss, the Legendary Soldier himself...

"Soldiers Without Borders…?" The Headmaster repeated, lifting his face and giving Jophiel a measured gaze as his grip on the staff in his hand tightened apprehensively. "You recognize this man," the elder wizard declared.

Jophiel simply nodded with wide, unblinking eyes as he continued to stare at the olive-drab garbed man, his features hidden beneath a distinctive black balaclava. He was otherwise missing anything beyond the basic balaclava and combat fatigues.

"...Yes. He's from a…" He wondered how to best put it in a way that wouldn't technically be a lie, but also wouldn't make him come across as completely insane. Something that would make sense to a person of early modern cultural development... "A mythological army, or, what until now I thought to be a mythological army known to my people. One said to have saved the world itself from nuclear armageddon."

The Headmaster's expression was difficult to read for a moment, eventually casting the fallen soldier an unreadable look. "You say these Soldiers Without Borders saved your world from the threat of nuclear weapons… yet he was carrying one such weapon with him. A curious contradiction…"

Indeed, MSF was a paramilitary organization which operated outside of the jurisdiction of international law, had ambitions of building themselves into an extranational nuclear superpower, and hid their operations from the United Nations knowing full well how very criminal their actions were.

A heroic organization they were not. But that was neither here nor there, and Osmand clearly had a great deal of respect for this man to have gone to such lengths to honour him with this tomb. There was little to gain from disillusioning him as to the nature of his saviour.

"He was likely in the middle of a mission to steal the weapon from an irresponsible nation. To dismantle the warhead and ensure it could never be used for its intended purpose," Jophiel offered. "He simply never got the chance to complete his objective, having been… having wound up here."

Osmand was quiet for a spell, staring at the MSF trooper for a moment before closing his eyes and letting out a deep sigh. "Yes, that makes sense. A heroic organization would hardly be content with just allowing such dangerous weapons to exist."

Silence hung between the pair for a few moments before Jophiel noticed, and motioned to the plaque above the glass casket. "What does that say?"

"A hero," Osmand replied simply.

Of course, the soldier's dog tags would have been written in English…

His eyes widened in realization. "He'll have had a necklace bearing a pair of simple metal pendants with writing on them, his identification tags. If you give me access to the casket, I can tell you his name."

The Headmaster nodded and with a wave of his staff the box smoothly opened, granting Jophiel access.

Approaching, Jophiel paused, but quickly suppressed his urge to not touch an entombed body and reached into the trooper's shirt, quickly fishing out his tags.

"Corporal Dmitry Kuznetsov, of Russia." he announced before returning the tags back to their resting place. "Corporal is his military rank, Dmitry his given name, Kuznetsov his family name, Russia the nation of his birth."

Osmand was still, seeming to ruminate on the words before finally speaking aloud. "Corporal Dmitry, I thank you for granting me a second chance at life. I will ensure your name is remembered, and the heroism of your order known."

Jophiel was quietly looking over the man, eventually nodding and closing the lid before moving to step back-

"The chest at the base of his casket," the elder mage started right before the Canadian took a few steps. "It contains the equipment he came with. Take it."

Jophiel turned sharply towards Osmand as his heart skipped a beat. With the revenant way he'd treated Kuznetsov up to that point…

"If Soldiers Without Borders is truly so heroic, he would want you to be as well-armed as you can be for this battle, would he not?" Osmand asked while giving him a quiet stare.

"...Yes, he would," Jophiel allowed. More truthful was that an MSF trooper would probably just want their gear handed off to their nearest ally, but… Jophiel was probably the closest thing to one of those around for, what, several dimensions?

With a nod, he obeyed and moved to open the chest which Osmand audibly unlocked via magic…

And his eyes widened in shock at the sight of a Colt M1911A1 service pistol laying on top of a black plate carrier and heavy metal limb plates, along with three magazines, one of which was visibly fully loaded with seven rounds of .45 ACP.

"Lord Pholus," Osmand interjected again with a lap tap of his staff against the floor. "There will be time for questions and such later, for now, please hurry. Every moment we dally is another Fouquet has the opportunity to create distance from us.

Nodding quietly, Jophiel proceeded to gear up, equipping Kojima-tech military equipment as he prepared to step into battle.

* * *

"Armed and ready, eh, Partner?" Derflinger declared appraisingly as Jophiel adjusted the straps holding the rerebraces in place on his upper arm.

"Apparently," the Canuck replied warily.

Amazingly, everything fit. Moreover, everything was _fucking heavy._ Full-sized rifle bullet-resistant plates which covered the body from the neck down… the entire set had to weigh eighty god damned pounds.

He wasn't sure how useful the M1911 on his thigh, the flashbang grenade on his hip, or the combat knife would be, but… they didn't add _that_ much additional weight altogether, and better to have something and not need it than otherwise.

Luckily, the runes would take care of that when things got heated, if Derflinger was to be believed.

"And you're sure Louise will be fine?" Jophiel asked again worriedly.

Osmand replied again, wearily. "I assure you, Lord Pholus, the young lady merely suffered Soul depletion and will have made a full recovery after a good night's sleep, you needn't worry about her so."

Were it so easy.

At any rate… as the pair approached the pursuit party, all eyes were drawn to Jophiel, understandably enough. A deep black fabric tactical plate carrier with _enormously_ thick full-limb plates which wouldn't look out of place on power armour on his arms and legs in an utterly alien style to their own armour aesthetics…

If he stuck out when he initially arrived with his out-of-place olive drab fatigue jacket, black denim jeans and black hiking boots… well, now he was a fully armoured Hideo Kojima soldier in an early modern fantasy setting.

The lack of a helmet was already driving him up the wall though.

"Armour from my culture," he immediately interjected before questions could be raised from those gathered as he stepped into the crowd. "No time for questions, we've got to catch Fouquet. So what's the plan?"

The tiny albino girl with the massive shepherd's crook staff motioned towards him using said staff before speaking up with absolutely no inflection whatsoever, her face displaying all the raw emotion of a zucchini. "You, ride Sylphid with me. Strongest, powerful magic, best chance against a Square class."

Jophiel's eyebrows cocked in surprise and confusion at that. "Sylphid?" He asked inquisitively as he shifted his weight somewhat.

She redirected her staff to the top of the fortress walls… upon which was perched a large blue six-limbed dragon, staring down upon the gathering with massive solid emerald green eyes glimmering with a curious gleam.

He was expected to ride… a _dragon_. With no safety measures to speak of. Not even a saddle by the looks of it.

"...Ah," Jophiel started with wide-eyed apprehension. "I… I see."

That would prove utterly _terrifying_.

He shook his head and turned aside to face Osmand. "I'm sure you intend to join the pursuit, yes?"

"If you intend for me to serve as a suicide distraction, I suppose I could," Osmand began, tiredly playing with his pipe in his free hand. "I used up almost all of my Soul producing magic to hold up the academy main building, and the same applies to all of the school staff save for those in our immediately company Lord Pholus. I will not be able to cast a worthwhile combat spell for twenty-four hours, at minimum, I'm afraid."

He'd mentioned that before… was the Academy building really so architecturally unsound? Just how much did these people rely on magic for the absolute basics of their society?

"...I see," Jophiel began with a displeased sigh. "So, altogether, who's going after Fouquet?"

The actually kind of cute pocket-sized albino girl, Guiche, Kirche, and a few of the armoured guardsmen held their wands, staves, and swords aloft.

"I-I would not dare bring shame to my family name by standing aside while such a grave danger stalks my nation's countryside!" Guiche melodramatically declared as a conveniently timed gust of wind caused his curly golden locks to billow majestically. "You have my wand, Lord Pholus!"

Nobody seemed particularly impressed by his theatrics as Kirche piped up next. "The fires of my burning passion have been stoked, and I'll not sleep through this event like some glorified side-character in a penny dreadful! My flames shall kiss the criminal Fouquet and leave him scorched!" She triumphantly and confidently asserted, making a point to cast a hand through her long, silken parrot red hair as she stood with a hand on her wide hips.

Jophiel simply blinked, however. 'Penny dreadful' was a term that originated in the 19th century United Kingdom- and he should probably not think too hard about Kirche's usage of it and just assume it was the translation magic doing its thing.

The tiny albino girl blinked her red eyes once. "Already said I'll help," she intoned unenthusiastically.

Jophiel blinked right back at her owlishly. This wasn't the sort of behaviour he'd come to expect from nobles. "...I actually have yet to learn your name, miss…?" He began.

"Tabitha," she replied coolly.

A moment passed as he waited for her to finish.

She just stood in silence.

"...Tabitha…?" He pressed, expecting to get a full name out of her.

"Just Tabitha," she replied as she stood in place like a particularly bored mannequin, blinking her large bespectacled doe-like eyes.

"...I see," Jophiel said, not sure what to think of that.

"Miss Tabitha is a Chevalier, Lord Pholus," Osmand interjected with an attention-grabbing wave of his staff and an authoritative, reassuring tone. "Meaning her martial prowess is recognized by the crown itself. You need not worry yourself about her worth as an ally."

The Canuck nodded at the affirmation, and directed his attention to the four guardsmen that were also present.

It took them a moment to realise that he seemed to be expecting something out of them, as the most decorated one jumped when he noticed the attention and elbowed the rest into attentiveness as well.

It took them a moment, and a bit of staring from the gathered nobles for them to share a few looks and gather that they were expected to say something as well.

"...We'll kick his arse!" The shortest one declared, to which the other three nodded and cheered in agreement, raising their spears and swords into the air.

The gathered nobles looked particularly unimpressed by the crass declaration with the exception of Tabitha, who just continued to look bored, but shook it off with an amused grin on Kirche's part.

"...I will also accompany the party," Colbert suddenly, but quietly spoke up from his spot to the side of the party.

All gathered looked surprised by the statement, none quite so much as Osmand, who looked rather taken aback as he quickly shuffled over to the Fire magic teacher.

"Stephen, what's gotten into you?" He asked in a hushed tone as he sequestered Colbert away from the group hurriedly. "You know that you can't-"

He was cut off by distance, leaving the group standing alone, looking among themselves-

"And I thought you looked big to begin with," Kirche started while sidestepping a bit closer to Jophiel with a lecherous smile plastered on her face. "That armour makes you look positively enormous, _powerful_. I like it…" She purred while batting her long lashes at him.

Jophiel blinked owlishly again, this time at her. "...Why? This armour's actually kind of unpleasantly heavy and cumbersome." He stated in a thoroughly confused tone, adjusting his over-weighted arm as he did so.

Everyone just stopped, and collectively took a moment to turn and look at Jophiel with wide, dumbstruck eyes.

Kirche herself was visibly caught off guard, but seemed to recover quickly enough with her grin redoubling. "Oh, yet you seem to unbothered by the weight of such heroic armour… you must be remarkably strong, strong enough to hold someone up for _extended periods_ while engaging in _virile exercise,_ yes?" The tall exotic Germanian asked with all the subtlety of a charging bull as she leaned over in a way that would give Jophiel a perfect view down her bountiful cleavage.

The gathered men were giving Jophiel envious or resentful looks, until he responded.

"...I see what you're implying," he started, his eyes narrowing almost sensually- "I'm not carrying Fouquet back here when we catch him. One of you can levitate him back." Except he had actually been narrowing them _accusingly_.

Kirche was flabbergasted, while Guiche and the guardsmen's mouths were simply hanging wide open like fishes out of water.

"...You can't be serious right now," the dusky-skinned woman stated in a disbelieving tone.

"None of you are invalids," Jophiel declared as he crossed his arms in front of his arms defiantly. "And I am no beast of burden. Leash him to the dragon with ropes if need be, but I will not be denigrated in such a manner."

Several moments passed in utter, stupefied silence.

Then Tabitha pointed her crook of a staff directly at Jophiel and declared: "Immune," then pointed it at Kirche and inquired: "or ineffectual?"

Kirche's passion returned in full force, though now directed at the little white-haired girl an entire head shorter than her through gritted teeth. " _What did you just say you little-_ " She started furiously.

Only to be cut off by Osmand _stomping_ back into the circle with his brows knitted in plain _fury_. "Lord Pholus, Miss Tabitha" he began in a very measured, low tone. "We must have words before you all depart. Now." His tone brooked no argument, and so Jophiel obeyed without missing a beat as he was lead away from the group and Colbert, as did the tiny pale-skinned girl.

"What's the matter?" Jophiel asked in a concerned tone, his fists clenching apprehensively.

"Fouquet is Matilda Longueville," he stated matter-of-factly.

Jophiel's eyes widened as he stared back down at Osmand, his nostrils flaring in-

"...Who?"

Confusion.

Osmand's expression fell blank for a moment before he facepalmed at the response. "My secretary," the Headmaster clarified.

It took him another moment to realise who the elder was talking about. "Oh… oh! Oh shit, really? How do you know?"

"Stephen knew," Osmand began again, throwing a particularly venomous glance Colbert's way, the fire teacher standing aside with a thoroughly guilty look on his face. "Intercepted a message she'd sent to her employers two weeks ago…"

It was Jophiel's turn for his mouth to hang open before it snapped shut and he leaned in towards the Headmaster and hissed a response. "What!? Why in God's name didn't he say anything!?"

Osmand took a deep, calming breath before replying. "He intended to capture her in the act himself, for the 'glory' of it," he practically _spat_ the word out. "And as a consequence, were he anyone else I'd turn him in for being an accomplice to _all of this_ , but…"

The elderly wizard looked back to regard Colbert for a moment before continuing.

"Well, simply put…"

"Trustworthy?" Tabitha interjected, giving Colbert a measured stare from beside Jophiel.

"...He was grossly negligent, but not malicious," Osmand explained through gritted teeth. "Plus, considering that… to be blunt, I am uncertain that you two can be trusted to defeat Longueville- Fouquet- _the thief_ ," he spat out the term, "without killing her. We need an experienced warrior on the field, one that is proven against fellow Square-classes."

Jophiel cocked an eyebrow at Osmand at that statement. "Firstly, why are you specifying Tabitha and myself? Secondly, _Colbert is a Square-class!?_ " He pressed in shock.

Osmand gave Jophiel a heavily-lidded stare. "Lord Gramont and Lady Augusta are both quite unproven from what I know, and the guardsmen are mere Line-classes. While their aid is appreciated, I don't expect them to serve as much more than support or distractions for yourself, Miss Tabitha, and Stephen against a Square-class… and yes, Lord Jophiel, he is a Square-class-"

"Headmaster!" Colbert interjected with wide, concerned eyes as he damn near leaped out of his skin out of the blue. "Fouquet has spotted Sam, they know we're watching and have started fleeing in earnest!"

"Brimir's raging cock!" Osmand suddenly and furiously declared as he slammed the butt of his staff into the ground angrily. "You three, after Fouquet at once! The others will pursue on droogback immediately!"

As Jophiel sputtered and cursed ineffectually at how the situation just went from bad to worse, Tabitha motioned to the top of the walls, and her big blue dragon easily large enough to hold all three of them comfortably hopped from its perch with a mighty leap and a loud crash.

"Get on," the girl declared as the smooth-scaled beast lowered to the ground, and bopped the dragon on the head with her staff when it moved to return to its full height once she was on. "Stay down, extra passengers."

The dragon protested with a rather unexpectedly adorable high-pitched cry of "Kyuu!" and a disgruntled shake of its head as it remained low on the ground.

"You two go on ahead," Colbert shot at the pair as he moved for the main party. "I will follow with the rest of the group, they will be grossly underpowered for handling a Square-class on their own if Fouquet tricks us and the runners encounter them alone."

Jophiel paused, uncertain about the plan, when Osmand cut in.

"Fine! Just hurry, Sylphid is our only hope of catching the thief before they get away! Move damn it!" The old wizard commanded in a rushed, agitated voice.

Jophiel nodded, and rushed over to the dragon…

The dragon he'd be riding without a seatbelt, saddle, or _any_ kind of noticeable safety measures…

"Get on," Tabitha repeated to Jophiel, bored as ever.

"W-what am I supposed to hang on to?" He asked with much uncertainty.

"Me," she declared matter-of-factly.

That… didn't sound particularly safe-

"Have you gone daft!? _Move damn it!_ " Osmand bellowed out at the back of the Canuck, who was quickly spurred into damn near leaping onto the dragon's back and wrapping his arms around the very slight waist of the girl that was _much_ smaller than him, even more so than Louise.

He'd actually be able to rest his chin on the top of her head if he'd wanted to.

With a jerk of sudden G-forces Jophiel hadn't been expecting, Sylphid launched herself off the ground and into the air with a powerful flap of her massive wings, eliciting a terrified scream from the man as he desperately clung to Tabitha for dear life and his sword laughed at his misfortune quite heartily.

Tabitha, for her part, was really wishing that he'd remained on the ground and that the idiot gloryhound had chosen to fly with her instead as wind whipped around them, her form stuck to her familiar's back with a simple and effective spell while the academy rapidly shrunk beneath them.


	14. Click

**Pre-Story Notes** :  
 _SHIT CHAPTER ALERT: this chapter is gonna fucking suck because I had to force myself to wring this sequence out when I really didn't want to write it in the first place, but I got it the fuck out because it's the only way to move on to the parts I actually want to write. I just wasn't feeling it for some reason._

 _So yeah, lower your expectations guys. This is me sitting myself down and forcing it for the sake of getting the damned ball rolling again. Sorry in advance._

* * *

**Chapter 14 - Click**

* * *

Hair whipping around his face, wind screaming in his ears, and dragon thumping beneath him with each flap of its mighty wings; Jophiel clung to the tiny girl like a life preserver as they rocketed outwards over the woods surrounding the Academy, Osmand's tower fading into the distance as they soared.

Absolutely nothing in the way of safety devices aside from the tiny girl in question to keep him from falling off to his untimely death.

Jophiel was really, _really_ regretting not choosing to go after Fouquet on droogback.

To his surprise, the constant buffeting of wind slamming into them was cut short and the air become still despite their forward momentum being maintained.

"Your sword," the tiny albino started. "Is really a spellbreaker?"

"Oy, you insinuating that I'm a liar, girlie!?" The… actually really poorly designed blade called back from the Canuck's hip.

It took a moment for Jophiel to realise that she was probably using wind magic to create a pocket of calm air around them to allow for conversation… smart, and useful.

Also: "Wait, what? The hell's a 'spellbreaker?'" The comparatively gargantuan man asked in confusion.

Tabitha twisted around in Jophiel's arms to give him a blank look, then shifted it to the enormous yataghan on his waist.

"H-hey! It's not like I had the opportunity to rattle off all my abilities to him in the few minutes he used me before getting knocked out in the courtyard!" Derflinger declared defensively.

The little bespectacled girl somehow managed to give the impression of rolling her eyes despite her face remaining entirely deadpan as she faced forwards again. "Explain," she commanded in her dull monotone.

"Er, right," Derflinger started awkwardly. "Partner, listen here, I'm what the locals call a 'spellbreaker!' That means that I can absorb the magic of spells I come into contact with, outright nullifying anything less than a triangle-class if the timing's right!"

Jophiel blinked. That sounded… legitimately, _extremely_ useful. "Jesus Christ, that's amazing! Why didn't you say anything earlier-"

The big blue dragon suddenly twisted and careened off-course into what felt like a momentary free-fall before quickly righting herself right above the treeline, cutting Jophiel off and scaring the shit out of him.

"W-what the fuck-" he shakily started.

"Grapeshot golems," only to be tonelessly cut off by the tiny white-haired girl. "Triangle-class, terminal velocity shot, anti-air, can break dragon scales."

"Kyuu~!" Sylphid cried out in a surprisingly distressed tone.

"Hidden by trees," Tabitha continued as the dragon hovered in place with some difficulty. "Can't see them, too dangerous, need ground support."

Jophiel blinked in surprise. He… wasn't expecting for the Halkegenians to have actual anti-air capabilities, but it made sense if flying mounts were simply a thing that existed. But how in the hell did _golems_ fill that role?

Shaking his head, he noted that he had to focus on the here and now. "The droogs are a fair ways away… how are we supposed to get past the golems if we need-"

"Spellbreaker," she cut him off again.

He blinked in confusion. "What about it-" Jophiel started before he felt the crook of her staff hooking around his neck.

"Will support you from the air," she declared as she yanked _hard_ while the dragon tipped over, sending Jophiel unexpectedly careening over the side.

He barely had time to process the act and begin screaming before he slowed down with remarkable speed, and settled on the ground feet-first no harder than if he'd jumped from a chair.

He wasn't sure if he should shit his pants or not right then and there.

"Wow!" Derflinger barked with laughter. "What a mean lil' cutie, eh partner?"

Shaking his head, Jophiel's eyes began whipping around and scanning the area in a panic. She expected him to _fight_ those fucking things? How?

"Oy, listen up lad!" The sword on his side started. "If those golems are really just triangle-classes, that means I'll be able to devour the magic holding them together like nothing! Just get in close, take a swing, and they'll be down for the count!"

The Canadian felt his entire body tense up at that. "Y-you want me to charge those fucking things-"

"Blunt side!"

"Eh?"

"Use my blunt side! Don't swing my fucking edge against stone golems!" The sword demanded.

Blinking, Jophiel shook his head and drew the enormous, heavy, and unwieldy sword, making a point to hold it backwards.

The sword didn't feel functional at _all_ , he had to be honest. Regardless, he had a job to do, apparently.

"Okay…" he started nervously. "Let's get this thing-"

Only to be silenced by what sounded like a massive, extremely pissed off rock tumbler just on the other side of a number of trees he couldn't quite see past, the noise rapidly increasing in volume and-

"HOLY FUCK PARTNER MOVE-"

The sword was cut off by a terrible roar as the trees before Jophiel _exploded_ and he was harshly thrown off his feet by a severe impact, knocking the wind out of his lungs and sending a sharp pain lancing throughout his arm.

He didn't even have the chance to react before it happened.

"Partner! That shot fucking shredded your armour… get the hel up and move you idiot! You won't be able to take another hit like that!" Derflinger agitatedly shouted.

Turning over despite his body's protests and scrambling away, the futuristic heavy plate armour he'd received from the dead MSF trooper basically fell off of his right arm, utterly fucking ruined by the single attack by the golem.

Not to mention the horrid pain his own arm was left in by the attack. He could still move it, but it felt like he'd just

This was way above his pay grade.

Face whipping back as he ran, he spotted the golem itself tracking him. It was tall, at least three metres so, and looked like some kind of tripod with three thick legs of stone holding up a single massive boulder. The boulder itself had what looked like a vortex in the centre of spinning stone debris breaking and flaking off in spin wildly within, rapidly picking up in speed as an awful rumbling came from it…

And it was following Jophiel.

"JESUS FUCKING CHRIST AAAAH-" The Canuck shrieked as he bolted off, his left arm flopping about as he attempted to avoid the terrifying thing's gaze-

A series of thunderclaps resounded from above, and the ground exploded around the golem as if hit by a series of wide anti-material rounds, with one connecting and breaking a large chunk off the automaton.

Tabitha was lobbing wind spears through the canopy, taking blind shots at the golem below.

It quickly shifted its gaze skyward, back to ignoring Jophiel entirely.

"Partner!" Derf started. "Stop fucking around and take that damned thing out! Swing me at it and I'll absorb the magic holding it together, hurry the hell up!"

The Canadian was unsure, finding himself locking up at the prospect of charging at what was basically a fantasy combat mecha…

Derflinger groaned loudly before continuing. "Oh, toss this trash! You need a kick in the ass! Here we go!"

"What are you-" Jophiel began before he was harshly cut off by…

Fear faded.

Anxiety dissolved.

Self-doubt crumbled.

An enemy stood before the Gandalfr.

 _It would fall._

Jophiel charged, his foot digging into the earth and kicking up a mound of dirt behind him as he rocketed forth, swinging the oversized sword like a child's plaything.

The blunted edge sang as it ran across the body of the anti-air golem, and the great stone creature immediately collapsed into a pile of useless inanimate stone as the man came to a harsh stop metres away, his feet digging into the ground as he did so. It didn't even get the chance to take another shot at Tabitha.

"Ho shit!" Derflinger called it enthusiastically. "Haha, holy shit that was good! You still with me partner?"

"Yes," Jophiel tersely replied, his eyes already scanning for the next threat. "My familiar ability?"

"Yeah, yeah… ha, good to see that this can work _without_ hijacking your body in the process. This'll come in _real_ handy, I tell you what!" The sword sounded positively jubilant. "I'm not even upset that you fucked up the finish on my blade to take that thing out! Ha! So, that being said-"

"Lord Pholus!" A familiar, older voice called out as Colbert rapidly approached him on droogback, noticeably with only Guiche riding alongside. "You are…"

His and Guiche's eyes widened when he gazed upon the mess that used to be one of Fouquet's golems, facing him with plain awe in his eyes.

"I… I see the headmaster's faith was not misplaced…" the bespectacled wizard shook his head before continuing. "We were waylaid by infantry-type golems that cut Lord Gramont and myself off from Lady Augusta and the guardsmen. They are back there a fair ways trying to cut their way towards us, but we aren't sure if they'll reach us in time-"

The older man was cut off as a line of infantry golems tore through a tree wall, advancing upon the trio with mechanical focus as their stone feet dug into the mossy forest ground below.

"A-ah! What is this, such a pathetic showing!" Guiche's voice audibly broke as he made his declaration, raising his wand styled to look like a rose in the air, at which point a small squad of bronze golems with distinctly human shapes clad in full, stylized Valkyrie armour and armed with proper weapons apparated out of the ground, leaving small craters in the spots where they arose, as if…

He was transmuting the soil itself into bronze on the spot. From what Jophiel knew about transmutation in Halkegenia, that was an _extremely_ high-end and demanding spell. Something which as far as he knew a _dot-class_ like Guiche shouldn't have been able to do at all.

"Come, you craven, unartful pebbles! You face Guiche the Bronzesmith! Son of-" His attempt at boasting turned into a high-pitched screech as a stone whizzed past his face and he ducked, burying his face into the scruff of the unamused droog he was riding.

His Valkyries charged and clashed with the stone golems rather dramatically. Remarkably, they were actually holding their own despite being outnumbered.

"Y-you two go on! I shall hold the line here while you apprehend that vile thief!" Guiche declared while righting himself and trying to look proud and majestic atop the hound which looked rather uncertain about the conflict going on not very far away. "Go! These glorified gravel men are no match for my mighty Valkyries!"

Jophiel shared a look with Colbert, then turned and started running towards the other anti-air golems. They'd have to be taken care of for Tabitha to be able to support them properly.

Colbert was hot on his heels, and with luck, they'd be able to catch up with the master thief before it was too late. 

* * *

Jophiel racked his pistol, loading a .45 round into the chamber and readying it to fire. Colbert rode on ahead while he was taking out the rest of the damned golems keeping Tabitha and her dragon from providing effective air support, and in the distance he could hear the sounds of a pair of square classes dueling each other, great pyroclasms lighting the gaps between trees and earthquakes shaking the ground as he approached.

With Fouquet distracted, he'd be able to end all of this immediately and easily with one shot to the back. He couldn't risk trying to take her alive, not when she had the Davy Crockett in tow. It was too damned risky.

As he approached the battlezone of the two warring mages, Jophiel was glad for whatever magical effect Derflinger had bestowed upon him. Any hesitation he might have felt seemed to be utterly non-existent now, and he wasn't hesitating to do what needed to be done. It was good. There was no margin for error when the target had such a dangerous weapon in hand.

Reaching the edge of the treeline facing out into the clearing Colbert and Fouquet were in, Jophiel noted that it looked like a WW2 battlefield. Great craters, trees turned into standing spires of charcoal, smoke thick in the air and the ground torn asunder…

The power of square-class mages was something to behold.

A quick scan of the eerily still battleground revealed the two magical warriors in question, standing some twenty paces apart, wands outstretched, clothes tattered, burnt, shredded, each looking ready to collapse.

In the few minutes it had taken Jophiel to destroy the anti-air golems, they'd absolutely exhausted each other. Made them tunnel vision on the other.

Indeed, Fouquet was none other than Longueville, Osmand's secretary. Her pretty, dignified eyes locked forward on Colbert, mouth agape and gasping for air as she maintained a shaky bead on the man, Davy Crockett still floating behind her. She was none the wiser that the Canadian was standing well within the effective range of his pistol.

Good.

Safety off, round chambered, sights lined up, Jophiel slipped his finger into the trigger of the M1911 and focused. Taking a breath and applying pressure with practised precision…

He pulled the trigger.

A loud click resounded throughout the area, drawing the eyes of both mages to the Canadian's position as nothing happened.

A dud.

Immediately, Jophiel moved to rack the slide and eject the useless cartridge, only to have the gun correct him on the nature of the malfunction with the barrel pointed at the ground a scant few metres ahead of him.

A _hangfire_.

The sudden report and kick caused him to drop the damned pistol in surprise, eliciting a string of curses from Derflinger as Jophiel flinched back _hard_ at the unexpected discharge.

A mere instant passed, looking down at the pistol which came to a rest on the burnt, smoking grass at his feet with the slide jammed open by the improperly ejected casing. In the next instant he looked up, and was met with a storm of stone pelting him, _ravaging_ him.

Jophiel was blindsided, thrown back into a tree as his senses were knocked out of him for a few moments before it stopped just as quickly as it started, before he could even begin to process what was happening.

He was on his ass, back to the tree breathing heavily, eyes locked forward. It… didn't hurt, not seriously. But…

His breathing was irregular. He couldn't fill his lungs, his left eye refused to focus, and he could feel something warm and wet rapidly flowing from his nose…

Glancing down, he also couldn't help but notice the stone spike sticking a good six inches out of his unarmored arm along with many others that slipped in between the gaps the MSF armour he'd been wearing, which itself had been absolutely FUBAR'd, damaged beyond repair. Only the vest seemed to have survived the assault…

Moments passed, and Tabitha was upon him- wait, when did she get there? Wasn't she riding her dragon?

She was looking him over passively, scanning him like a robot would. A few seconds passed, and she stood, holding her staff aloft and beginning to chant something he couldn't make out despite the translation spell.

His eyelids grew heavy, and his vision began to rapidly lose all focus as he fought to keep his head from falling as he felt himself sagging back into the tree. He couldn't pass out, not now, now when Fouquet was-

"Don't resist," the little albino started. "She's caught."

Jophiel felt a weight lifted off his shoulders at that statement. That was good, very good. If Fouquet was captured, then…

"Listen to the girl, partner! She's doing you a favour!" The might sword asserted, to which she herself nodded in affirmation.

"Stop fighting," Tabitha continued pointing the head of her staff directly at him. "Did good. Now…"

She closed her eyes, a focusing measure he'd picked up on from watching other mages cast spells.

 _"Sleep."_

And so he did.


	15. Built Upon Sand

**Chapter 15 - Built Upon Sand**

* * *

Jophiel wasn't sure how long he'd been laying in bed until his mind finally spooled up and he became fully conscious again.

Another canvas roof. Medical tent.

The Canuck grimaced at the familiar fabric ceiling, pondering what had brought him back there.

He'd screwed up, probably nearly gotten himself killed… _again_. Such a fantastic start to his journeys in Halkegenia, huh?

Eventually, he let out a long-suffering sigh, and the silence was broken by the voice of another occupant.

"Have your wits returned to you, Lord Pholus?" Osmand's wispy old voice creaked out from his side.

Turning to face the elderly wizard, Jophiel confirmed that he was slouched in a wooden armchair which looked like it had come from the library. He looked absolutely haggard, which was to be expected given the circumstances.

A moment passed before the brunet responded. "Depends on what you mean," he began. "Evidence suggests that I nearly died again within the timespan of a few hours, so it can be argued that I may have had no wits to begin with."

Osmand hummed contemplatively with his eyes drooping to the floor. "I do not wish to come across as pushy, though I'll have to beg your forgiveness for cutting right to the chase, Lord Pholus." He really looked like he hadn't slept in a week. "We have to get our story straight before leaving this tent."

That was a rather ominous fucking statement if ever Jophiel had heard one.

With what looked to be a great effort, the sagely old man straightened his back as he shifted his gaze to meet Jophiel's.

"For obvious reasons, Stephen cannot be allowed to take credit for the defeat of Fouquet, not that he wishes to claim responsibility at this point, but I digress… Miss Tabitha has made it clear on no uncertain terms that she will not have the accolades for besting the master thief bestowed upon her either, under the unspoken threat of _unpleasantries_ to follow if they're pressed upon her regardless, no less."

Osmand sighed deeply.

"And given that you three were the only ones present that can reasonably claim to have slain The Decaying Earth... which leaves only you."

Jophiel's brows furrowed heavily. "Headmaster," he started, not liking where this was going. "The absolute most that can be attributed to me is serving as a distraction. I don't deserve any credit for… _killing_ Longueville-"

"Fouquet," Osmand interjected.

Jophiel blinked, his lips parting slightly as he cocked a perplexed eyebrow. "What does the distinction matter at this point?" He asked in an exasperated tone.

"Miss Longueville is currently recuperating from the torture Fouquet had put her through under intensive care at the base of the Tower of Fire," the Dumbledore-like figure began. "Seeing as how she was kidnapped by the dastardly man on the walk she'd gone on a few days prior."

Jophiel regarded the old man for several long seconds before slowly shifting his position on the cot and uprighting himself with a small grunt, eyes never leaving Osmand for a moment as he gave him an expectant stare.

"Everybody witnessed you all returning with miss Longueville in tow, and I'd prefer to be able to question her on my own terms. _Before_ she has to be turned over to the authorities in a preferably low-key manner, one which will not call attention to the fact that a master thief had been employed by the school for many months up to this point," he continued matter-of-factly.

Taking the information in, the Canuck sighed after a beat and buried his face in his hands with a grumble. "Fucking cloak and dagger shit…" shaking his head, he rose his eyes towards the archmage again. "Is it _really_ necessary to give me the credit for this? I don't want that kind of attention dumped on me."

Osmand leaned aside, wrinkled eyes arching in mild amusement. "The kind of attention which would be on par with that garnered by teleporting in front of hundreds of credible witnesses?"

...Jophiel had forgotten that had happened.

With a distraught wail, he buried his face back into his palms. "That wasn't me!" He whined through his hands. "I don't know how in the hell that happened, but I swear on all that is good and just that I have no idea how that happened! I shouldn't be getting any credit for that either!"

Staring quietly for a time, Osmand responded with a sigh. "I believe you, Lord Pholus, however that does not change the fact that you performed a manner of magic which is only known of in legend and myth, in front of half the academy at that."

The elderly man withdrew a pipe from his robes, placing the end in his mouth without filling or lighting it, more so out of habit than anything else.

"You are already the talk of the school, Pholus. Escaping some degree of attention is going to be impossible, as that snowball has already began to roll downhill. I apologize for having to add onto that, but it is our only realistic option as it stands."

Growling heavily, Jophiel let his hands fall as his head nearly hung between his legs in frustration with the situation. "Gotta play the hand you've been dealt…"

It was bullshit and he hated it, but they didn't have many, if any other options for handling things.

"Fine, but don't play it up at all. I don't want more attention or recognition beyond the absolute bare minimum I can get away with." The only thing Jophiel could really do without putting himself in bad standing with the Headmaster and who knew who else would be keeping his head down past this point and hoping the attention would blow over.

Osmand nodded his head once as he lightly chewed on the end of his pipe. "I'm glad that we've come to an understanding, and I assure you that I've been doing my best to mitigate the amount of 'damage,' so to speak. But…" he closed his eyes and took a deep, exhausted sigh. "Young mister Gramont and Lady Augusta have been making it a challenge."

"But of course…" Jophiel grumbled as he pushed himself to his feet with some measure of stiffness. He wasn't hurting anywhere, and didn't have any real visible scars on his naked torso… "Where's my gear, by the way?"

"What survived is right there," Osmand pointed towards the back of the tent using his pipe. "That armour was impossibly strong, but most of it could not withstand such a terrible attack by a desperate Square class. The vest itself as well as your shirt and jacket were repaired, though the plating was ruined beyond any hope of restoration."

Approaching the MSF plate carrier resting atop a linen sheet along with the rest of his equipment, Jophiel confirmed that the armour it was bearing earlier was gone, and though expertly mended, it was clear that _large_ holes had been patched and sewn shut all over it.

...Holes which went clear through both sides of the vest.

Jophiel chose to not think too hard about that particular detail as he got dressed, just thankful that his beloved jacket was intact.

The piece of Metal Gear equipment brought his mind back to another very important point, at any rate.

"What of the Davy Crockett?" the Canadian asked simply enough.

"It is currently locked in Corporal Kuznetsov's tomb, behind the strongest seals I could manage. Barring being transported to the royal vault in Bruxelles, that is where it is safest… the 'warhead,' as you called it, has been removed and hidden within a hollow statue of an old Brimiric Vikingr within the same vault. Even if the 'launcher' itself is stolen in the future, it will prove worthless to any would-be thieves as-is."

"...That'll have to do," Jophiel nodded as he finished strapping the vest back on. It still had magazine pouches and the like, so it'd function well enough as just a carrying vest for the time being.

Then his eyes widened once he realised something.

"Osmand, there is nothing between us and potential listeners besides tent fabric-"

"I cast a spell to prevent eavesdroppers from listening to us when I entered the tent, Lord Pholus," Osmand interjected. "If you'll notice, we cannot hear anything outside ourselves."

Jophiel stopped, perked his ears up and listened… Osmand was right. He'd not noticed it beforehand, but the only thing he could hear was Osmand himself. Dead silence dominated the tent otherwise. "...I see. Well then, is there anything else to discuss here?"

"I want you to be there when I interrogate Longueville," the sagely old man declared. "Otherwise, you seem to have recovered well, so I see no reason for us to dwell here further."

With some effort, Osmand rose to his feet and deposited his pipe back into his robes, gesturing to the exit with his staff once he was at his full height.

"Lady leBlanc had been adhered to your side since you returned before I shooed her out. She did not appreciate being separated from you, but we needed to have this talk and she needs to sleep. I imagine that she will tackle you the instant she notices you are hale and hearty again, but that shan't be for a few hours, Founder willing."

"...Thanks for the warning," Jophiel noted with a shrug as he spied Derflinger resting against the wooden frame of the tent, utterly silent. "She… was in the vault when I came to there, wasn't she? How is she?"

Osmand waved his hand dismissively. "The young Lady is fine, there's no need to concern yourself over her wellbeing. She was overstressed and requires some time to sleep, but little else."

Sighing with relief, Jophiel nodded in response as he slotted the M1911 in his vest holster. "Alright… I suppose we'd better get this over and done with then."

"Indeed, let's get going," Osmand agreed as he stepped out of the tent without missing a beat.

Reaching out and grasping the immense greatsword, Jophiel was a tad surprised when it remained silent… did Derflinger sleep? Why would a talking sword need to sleep-

Cutting off his thoughts before he got distracted, he took a hold of the blade in a left handed reverse carry before moving to the tent flap himself. It was time to deal with Longueville.

* * *

"The Neo Crusaders!" The pretty brunette woman all but _screamed_ the _instant_ Jophiel stepped into the room they were keeping her in at the base of the Tower of Fire. "I-it was them that made me do it, but I didn't want to and they threatened my family and said they'd kill them all if I didn't and I didn't think the golem was going to get through the walls it shouldn't been able to please I'm sorry I didn't mean for any of this to happen I swear I swear I swear _I'm sorry, please don't let them hurt my family!_ "

Head reared back and eyes as wide as saucers, it took Jophiel a few moments to process that the woman was clearly _terrified_ of him to an outright manic degree. That… took him off guard, considering he'd managed to do precisely jack, shit, and fuck-all to her earlier.

He was legitimately confused as to why she'd be so openly scared of him considering how sad his attempts to stop her had been, but…

He wasn't about to look a gift horse in the mouth.

As the woman kept blabbering, pressed up into the corner of the room with her arms and legs bound, as if trying to put as much distance between her and the Canadian as she possibly could, he turned to face Osmand. "...I don't think she's lying," he dryly declared.

"I am inclined to agree," the Headmaster nodded. "I don't think I'll need you present for the rest of this discussion, so you may take your leave, Lord Pholus. I shall inform you of anything important once I am complete, for now, do as you will."

Sparing the woman a last glance which seemed to horrify her all the more, Jophiel sighed and about-faced, heading back for the courtyard. He wasn't sure what exactly else he was supposed to do, or whatever…

Then it occurred to him that he'd seen neither hide nor jet-black hair of Siesta since all of this had started.

Louise would still be sleeping according to Osmand, so…

With a resolute nod, Jophiel set out to look for the wayward maid, hoping that she was okay and hadn't been at all hurt in all the chaos…

* * *

Stepping into the tent he'd been directed to, Jophiel was relieved to find that Siesta was indeed there, resting on a cot, looking rather out of it, staring off into the distance with a… rag, over her left hand…

His mind immediately shot back to the massive stone fragments that flew into the crowd before he'd gone to challenge Fouquet in the vault personally, a little of the colour draining from his face when he realised just how… _blankly_ Siesta was staring at a fabric wall, right hand resting atop the rag concealing her left almost gingerly…

A few beats passed, and he nervously took a step forward, fearing the worst. "...Siesta?" He quietly started up, fearful that he was about to have confirmation of the worst kind.

The maid slowly turned to regard Jophiel, blinking once at him as her mind seemed to slowly spool up like an old timey computer.

After a few awkward seconds, her eyes suddenly widened and she was up on her feet, sending the rag flying… "J-Jophiel! Thank the Gods, you're okay-!" ...revealing a perfectly intact pair of hands held before a rapidly reddening face as the girl realised she'd just leapt up and started shouting at a noble.

Jophiel felt an intense amount of tension leave his body. He was glad to see that he'd been worrying about nothing. "I'm glad to see you're well, Siesta," he warmly said to the girl. "I was concerned that you might have been struck by debris… it's relieving to see that isn't the case after all."

The biracial girl seemed taken aback by that statement, her features falling blank again for a few instants before her large hazel eyes widened considerably and she took on an even more vibrant crimson hue, directing her gaze firmly downwards as she seemed to lose the will to look Jophiel in the eyes. "O-oh…" she breathed as she nervously wrung her hands together. "I… I see. Y-you are t-too kind to a maid as lowly as I, milord…"

Such an easily flustered girl…

"You seemed a little out of it," Jophiel continued with some concern. "Are you okay?"

Siesta continued to wring her hands as she replied. "I-I'm just tired from helping around the academy grounds, is all. There's no need to be so concerned over me," she continued to assert almost self-consciously.

The Canadian sighed with mild exasperation at the pretty maid's insistence on being so overly humble, but it was hardly the time or place to reprimand her for that, and he had other things to tend to now that he knew she was safe.

"Well, I'm glad that you're okay, but I should go find Louise now. I haven't spoken to her since before I went into the vault, so-" Jophiel found his words catching on his teeth as Siesta's face visibly fell at his words… then rose back up, in what he could only interpret as blatant awe.

"You stood against a living legend, and _won_. You… you _teleported_. Like a hero out of the Brimiric legends…" She was… staring at him. Like he was larger than life, something greater than the average man.

 _Him_. Joe from Bumblefuck, Canada, population: less than what attended your high school. The most noteworthy thing about him being his unusual ethnic makeup…

 _Thanks for this, Kirche, Guiche..._ Jophiel snidely thought to himself.

"You… you really are amazing, Lord Jophiel. We're lucky to have someone like you willing to stand up for us," the girl continued, an admiring smile finding purchase on her face as she looked up to the brunet. Both literally and figuratively.

He didn't like Siesta looking at him like that.

"Si-" how could he disarm her a bit, make her stop looking at him like some sort of star…? ah, perhaps… "-si," he continued, bestowing a cutesy nickname upon the girl in hopes of levelling the playing field a bit. "Will you be available to talk later? I really should go, but I'd like to spend some time with you once things have calmed down."

Features falling again, she rather quickly switched back to being as red as a tomato and finding the ground at her feet to be the most interesting sight in the world. "U-um… I, I shall see what I can do about making some free time, if it would please milord."

"It would," Jophiel instantly replied before he realised that sounded kind of entitled of him. "If it wouldn't inconvenience you, of course. The last thing I want is to be a bother when you're so busy."

"I-it's no trouble!" She interjected in an almost panicky manner before swiftly redirecting her gaze back to her feet, somehow managing to turn all the redder. "I mean… it would be my pleasure to spend time with you after all this work."

Smiling widely, Jophiel reached out and happily clapped Siesta on the shoulder. "Guess it's a plan then! I'll be looking forward to that, but I really have to go now, so I'll talk to you in a bit Si-si. Don't work yourself too hard in the interim! Later now," he finished, backing off with a cheerful wave.

For her part, Siesta waved back rather demurely, keeping her gaze averted for the most part. That probably couldn't be helped for the time being, but Jophiel would be sure to go out of his way to hammer it into the girl's head that he was just some asshole, not someone she needed to treat super specially or anything.

But, that aside… he really needed to find Louise. Osmand mentioned that she was sleeping, right? That should help with narrowing her location down.

Hopefully she was handling this entire situation gracefully enough.


	16. Brother from another Mother

**Pre-Story Notes** :  
 _Shorter chapter than usual, but this didn't need to be any longer than it is, and I don't want to stretch chapters out just to meet a minimum word requirement as I used to for RotN. Next chapter should be meatier, probably._

* * *

 **Chapter 16 - Brother from another Mother**

* * *

It didn't take long to find the fun-sized blonde, curled up in a ball on a couch from the library under a makeshift canvas roof, her breathing somewhat shaky, and her form occasionally shifting, almost restlessly so.

A lone nurse was tending to the impromptu sunshade's other sole occupant. A young girl, a First Form if he had to guess based on her young features. She was also sleeping, and while the nurse visibly… _reacted_ to his arrival, she made a conscious effort to focus on the girl.

Setting Derflinger to rest against the side of the sofa, being as small as she was left plenty of room for Jophiel to sit down on the same seat Louise was resting on. Setting a hand on her shoulder, he felt no small amount of tension leave his body when he felt the warmth of her body through the fabric of her blouse.

The feeling seemed to be mutual, as she immediately ceased fidgeting in her slumber, and seemingly unconsciously inched up against him before letting out a contented breath, her breathing becoming regular and rhythmic as she did so.

She was safe and sound. Knowing that for certain was more relieving than he could describe for some odd reason… the work of the familiar bond, no doubt.

Regardless of _why_ it was happening, he could not deny that he desperately appreciated the soothing sensation that washed over him right then. It did little to dissipate the lingering aches he'd accrued over the course of the night, many of which had been reduced to little more than throbbing surface-level bruises, but it was enough.

He just sat there, hand resting on the tiny shoulder of Louise, long enough for the nurse to finish tending to her current patient and scurry off to help others still in need.

He probably should have followed after her, put in an effort of his own to help around the grounds since he was able-bodied enough to get around without hurting himself… but he felt compelled to remain right there, on Louise's left side, where he belonged.

And so, as the twilight shifted to night, the twin moons shone their alien light upon the grounds, and the night songs of the local birds soon accompanied the chitter-chatter of the school staff still running to-and-fro, tending to the injured as best they could, the Shield kept a vigilant watch over his ward.

* * *

A sudden, mildly harsh pressure between his neck and shoulder woke Jophiel with a start, and after an instant, he recognized a familiar mop of strawberry blonde hair pressing into his shoulder, now lit by the morning sun.

Louise had woken before him, and jumped on him by the looks of-

"Jerk…" she grumbled in a shaky voice.

The Canadian blinked owlishly at that. "Huh?"

"You," she began, pressing her face into his shoulder harder, her grip on his jacket and vest tightening significantly. "Stupid, inconsiderate jerk...!"

She was holding onto him, desperately, shoulders trembling as she began to shake her head.

"You… big, stupid, dummy!" She tugged on his clothes angrily, still not revealing her face to him as she did so. "You almost… there was a hole big enough to fit my hand through in your…!"

One of her tiny hands relinquished its hold on his vest and ineffectually pounded on his chest.

"I almost… I almost had nothing again. You nearly left me! You came so close, so close to dying!" She hiccuped, sounding rather upset as she grabbed onto the vest again. "W-what were you thinking, you stupid, idiot, dummy…!"

Jophiel wrapped his arms around the girl, trying to pull her into a comforting hug. "It's okay, I'm back, I'm safe-" he attempted to coo in a soothing tone, only to be sharply cut off.

"It's not okay!" Louise hissed at him, sharply pulling back and glaring at him with rapidly reddening eyes. "You almost died! I almost had to watch you… because of me…!" her little brows furrowed in frustration and anger, speaking through clenched teeth.

She pulled on his clothes as if to near him in a threatening manner.

"You! You promise me, right now, that you'll never endanger yourself like that again! Ever! Swear on everything you hold sacred and holy, everything you hold dear, now!"

He was taken aback by the intensity of her words and voice. Though she was keeping her voice low, an effort which was clearly demanding much of her, it was nonetheless filled with intensely raw emotion which blindsided him.

She was glaring, demanding a response right then and there.

He…

"I promise to do whatever it takes to keep you safe," he eventually, cooly replied.

"That isn't what I-!" She began in a quiet, furious snarl before he firmly gripped her shoulders, holding her in place.

"Don't force me to make a promise both of us know I won't be able to keep if push comes to shove," he said to her, firmly, but gently. "I will protect you, no matter the price I must pay, and that's final."

Jophiel wasn't entirely sure where this was coming from- well, no, that wasn't true. It was without a doubt the doing of the Familiar bond, but he meant what he said with all of his heart regardless.

Though she knew she should have gotten mad at him right then, for a moment, Jophiel reminded Louise all too much of her big sister, Cattleya. She was never as stern as he was being right then, but all the same, the resolute look in his eyes, the sincerity in his voice...

He felt his grip loosen, become less of a hold, and become far more gentle. Comforting. He smiled reassuringly at her. "You are the most important thing in the world, and I will do whatever I must to keep you safe."

...She should have been all the more mad at him, so blatantly ignoring her order such as he was, but…

...At that moment, her heart fluttered, and this big, hairy, stupidly heroic and kindly foreigner… looked to be the big brother she'd never had, but secretly, always wanted.

But still, even so…

She puffed out her cheeks with a huff, and with a defeated pout said, "Idiot…"

* * *

"Extended summer break, huh?" Jophiel repeated the words as he tossed more shit into the carriage, pointedly ignoring the open ogling many of the more healthy students and staff members were directing his way since word of what happened had really spread in earnest.

"Interesting way of putting 'the school's too dangerous to occupy, so everyone go home for a few months,' I'd say," Louise dryly replied as she adjusted the belt on her riding pants. "I suppose it's lucky that it isn't an entire year, or we might have actually needed to transfer to a Gallian academy to finish the school year."

The Canuck nodded as he shut the carriage door, dusting off his hands as he did so. "Everything's all packed away. Two days, you say it'll take for us to reach your family's lands?"

"By droogback, yes," the tiny girl replied with a nod, seemingly satisfied with the fit of her leggings. "The faster we get to Bruxelles, the better. I think it'd do us both well to stay off our feet for the better part of the day, considering recent events."

"Fair enough," he agreed as he patted the side of one of the cart hounds, who was happy to receive the pet. "At any rate… a ball held in our honour when the academy opens up again. That'll be… an experience."

Indeed, Osmand promised the group that had pursued Fouquet that he'd host a ball on reopening night on top of recommending a commendation from the queen herself for their accomplishment in slaying such a dangerous and much-wanted criminal.

Not to mention the bounty which had been split between them. It was a pretty decent amount. Chump change compared to what the aluminium cans had earned him, but money was money, he wasn't about to complain about it.

He honestly wasn't really looking forward to that, at any rate. A ball meant dancing and dressing up and shit. Two things the wayward Canadian sucked at. At least Louise, Kirche, and Guiche seemed excited by the idea…

Louise held a finger to her mouth as she pondered something before nodding her head. "I'm going to go double-check Sleipnir's saddlebags. It would be unpleasant if we were to find out that we forgot to pack drinks and snacks to tide us over until we reach the city."

"Sounds like a plan, I'll wait here then," Jophiel said as he took a seat on the step of the carriage, the short girl heading off for the dens.

A few minutes passed, and to his pleasure, a familiar raven-haired maid approached, out of uniform for the first time since he'd arrived.

"Si-si!" He smiled widely as he rose to his feet. "I was hoping to see you before leaving."

The girl smiled demurely at him, "I am glad to see you well, mi- Jophiel," then looked aside with a slightly mournful look on her face. "So… several months is what they're saying it will take for the academy to be fully repaired and deemed safe to inhabit again."

"Yeah," Jophiel nodded, "what do you figure you're gonna do in the interim? I don't imagine they're gonna keep a simple housemaid on for reconstruction efforts."

She shook her head side-to-side, hands crossed in front of her waist modestly. "No, starting tonight I'm going to be heading to Bruxelles to work for my uncle Scarron at the-"

"Charming Faeries Inn?" He interjected, eliciting a surprised look from her. "That's great, Louise and I are going to be spending the night there on our way over to her family land. I suppose that means we'll be seeing each other again in a few hours then, huh?"

Siesta lit up like a Christmas tree at his words, smiling widely in response. "It seems so. I look forward to serving you tonight, master!" she declared with a playful curtsy.

Jophiel's knee-jerk response was to wag his finger at her for the 'master' thing, but then he remembered that Jessica had done the same thing when he'd met her. Must have been a Charming Faeries thing. "Oh, okay then," he managed to chuckle instead. "I'm just looking forward to get to talk to you in a more relaxed environment."

She nodded, smiling cheerfully at him before she took a step back. "Well, I should finish packing my things. Speak to you again tonight, Jophiel!" She declared happily.

"See you in a few!" He shot back with his own smile before she spun on her heel and started back the way she came, a spring in her step which hadn't been there when she'd initially approached.

Siesta was very excited to know that Jophiel was going to be spending the night at her uncle's inn, especially given the information that Jessica had given her in their letters to each other recently, going on and on about the new renovations they were getting ready to work on, turning in the inn into a high-class establishment that even nobles would enjoy being a patron of.

Though, what really stuck in her mind was that one particular detail Jessica had harped on about at length, so proudly and eagerly. The brand new, custom-tailored uniforms that had been produced for all the Faeries to wear on the job.

Moreso, that her cousin had actually remembered her measurements and had a uniform made for Siesta in anticipation for her summer employment there.

Tonight was bound to be fun indeed, the commoner girl thought to herself with an excited grin, practically springing to her own carriage as she did so.

Meanwhile, Louise returned to Jophiel, big giant Saint Bernard padding up behind her, massive tail buffeting behind him as happily as ever.

"Well, our valuables have been loaded up into the carriage proper, and while those won't be leaving for a while still, there is no reason we can't mount up and depart at once if you are up to it," she said to the big Canadian.

"I have no objections," Jophiel replied with a nod. "Sooner we get there, sooner we can relax comfortably."

"My thoughts exactly," Louise agreed. "So, shall we, then?"

In less than a minute, the duo were sitting atop the back of the massive, burly doggo, a still quiet Derflinger strapped onto his side, and they were proceeding to the main gate, past the rubble and emergency tents which were still lying about the academy grounds, many occupied despite the best efforts of the staff.

Jophiel glanced back as they passed through the main gate, and his lips pressed into a thin line as he looked over the academy for what would be the last time for several months. He had only been there a little over two weeks, but he'd managed to grow familiar with it, and seeing the fortress in such a sorry state was…

Well, it was unpleasant, to say the least.

At any rate, he would be glad to get away from the chaos still going on around the place. The crown would have deployed aid already, but they wouldn't arrive for a few hours still.

Jophiel was just looking forward to seeing the academy in one piece again when they returned in a few months.

As Sleipnir proceeded down the trail at a fairly fast trot, they quickly caught up to a carriage which had departed earlier, and as they passed, slowing a bit so as to not excite their cart droogs, Jophiel glanced aside into the carriage and spotted a familiar head of red hair.

Kirche smiled widely, immediately rising up, and leaning out of the open window of the door… and in doing so, basically hanging her tits right out of it, giving a very clear view down her cleavage.

Because of course she did.

"Fare thee well and safe travels to my brave, exotic champion!" the redhead called out, waving to the pair. "And his cute little master too!"

In response, Louise huffed, and spurred Sleipnir to move quicker after all.

"I'll miss you too, my favourite little grumpy-faced doll!" The redhead shouted as they pressed on, her voice already fading into the distance behind them.

Though Jophiel had tried to turn around and at least wave to Kirche, Louise made it difficult when she spurred Sleipnir into a full-on sprint, nearly causing him to fall off entirely.

Though he grumbled and mildly bitched at her for that, Jophiel didn't raise much of a fuss after the giant hound slowed down to a more reasonable canter. Seems it'd take a while for Louise to really warm up to the dusky-skinned bombshell yet.

Regardless, he settled in for a longish ride to Bruxelles.

Hopefully, their summer vacation, such as it was, would prove uneventful compared to his first two weeks on campus had wound up being.


End file.
